Name of War
by Fairtime
Summary: A nameless civilian, uprooted by the Militia-IMC conflict, explores the underworld of the Frontier to discover a sinister organization controlling events from behind the scenes, and to unearth the secrets behind his heritage and future.
1. Chapter 1

We didn't care what anyone called us. 'Traitors', 'marauders'… 'terrorists', even, some would say. Hell, half of us had never even touched a gun, and even less actually cared about the war. IMC? Militia? Those didn't have any meaning. The biggest conflict we'd dealt with in years was when some guy's MRVN went missing, and what a shakeup that was; turned out, it never even _went_ missing, the guy just forgot how many he'd actually owned. That must've been the hot topic at the tavern for months and months afterward. But… I wouldn't have had it any other way. Life was simple like that. Everything we truly cared about was wrapped up in farms, family…

"…and damn good booze!" Barker raised his stein, spilling froth and ale down the sides and onto his hands, drawing cheers from the tavern crowd as he had a hundred times before. Just barely could I hear him shout "Every round's on me tonight!" over the roaring crowd. Normally, I wouldn't even be allowed in here; not old enough. But Barker returning? Maybe even for good this time? Maybe we can bend the rules a little tonight, I thought. I raised my hand, motioning to the bartender. He tried to pretend he didn't spot me out of the corner of his eye as he rubbed a shot glass with a small rag. But, with my persistence, he eventually turned and shook his head with disapproval. Well… maybe not _every_ rule, I thought.

It's a good thing my father didn't see me, but I figured he was too enthralled with the story Barker was telling. I stretched my neck to look over everyone's heads, and spotted him sitting right across the table from Barker. Barker mentioned something about getting thrown into a sewer drain, prompting thunderous laughter from the entranced crowd. Dad seemed to laugh the hardest out of all of them. It was good, I guessed, that he seemed genuinely happy for once. He hadn't smiled even a single time, by my reckoning, since Barker had him take over the distillery in his absence.

I stood and pushed in my barstool, only for someone to push past me and sit down on it again. I weaved my way through the crowd, angering a few as they had to accommodate my exit and miss a miniscule detail of Barker's exploits. Finally, I reached the door, and slid outside as quietly as I could.

The night air was crisp, and as I began to make my way away from the tavern, the scent of ale waned. It was never truly absent here; no matter how much you got used to it, it would just keep creeping back into the air somehow. Yet, tonight, it was harder to detect than usual; likely a sign of how the distillery had been shut down for the day once everyone heard of Barker's return. That guy was a hero to everyone who knew him. Most of the people here didn't have a home; their planets ravaged by the IMC, or their pacifism disgracing their pro-Militia heritage. Barker had really built something special with the colony. In a time where people would turn against each other at the drop of a hat… or, at the drop of a credit chip, more like… he had brought people together. It may very well have been his love of alcohol that spurred him to do it, but the seed of goodwill must have been there somewhere.

'Backwater' everyone called this place, and that wasn't an unfair assessment. Barker had found a small valley up in the mountains on some one-off system… hell, I don't even think the planet had a real name, save for the random alphanumeric designations the IMC threw at every speck of dust floating out on the Frontier. At first, it was just a few shanty huts, wood risers to keep them out of the mud, and a couple of stills Barker had shipped in. Eventually, though, with a proper shipping and receiving area, a massive granary and distillery, a few hermitage buildings to frame it, and of course the jovial tavern… he'd carved out a little slice of peace on the Frontier.

I had ended up wandering out in front of the granary, before stopping to take a breath. Taking a seat on the metal steps in front of the grain repository, I looked out over the shipping area. Had it been any other night, this would be the busiest time for us. I shut one eye tight, and squinted the other, scrunching up my face while trying to spot where I'd be.

Riiiight… there, I thought to myself, as I spy an area between the loading pad and the storage depot. Every weeknight, after production wound down for the day, I'd be on call to get in line and ferry our signature brown packages from one end of the facility to the other. We packed up the 'shine we produced in these discreet little brown boxes, but despite the downplayed design, word had it everyone across the Frontier knew exactly what those little brown boxes of heaven held. Well, everyone but the IMC knew, apparently; we'd been making this stuff nigh on nonstop for a few years now, not to mention what had been in production before we had the major distillery. But the IMC didn't know, or maybe didn't care, so on we went. And, of course, every night, I'd be the one to stand ready: grab a box from the last guy on the line, hand it off to the storage guys. The whole night, it'd be the same. Grab a box, hand a box. Grab a box, hand a box. Grab a—

"Hey."

I slowly turned my head toward the raspy voice that had broken my stupor. Just beyond the corner of the grain repository stood my dad, shirt and pants bearing a few fresh liquor stains. I gave him a subtle nod, before turning back toward the loading area. There weren't many times I got to see it so peaceful.

Before I knew it, my dad was standing right next to me. He waved his hand slightly, motioning me to move over. I scooted to the side, allowing him to sit down directly next to me. He, too, began looking out over the loading area. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but let out a deep sigh first.

"Y'should probably get home." His words were slightly slurred, but I could tell he was far from drunk. Surprising, given the air about the celebration back at the tavern. And given his breath. "Still got work tomorrow."

He stayed staring straight forward, and I followed suit. "So what'd Barker say?"

A few moments passed. Dad sniffled a little, and licked his lips. "Lotta stuff." Another few moments. Another sniffle. "You heard about Demeter, right? Turns out he was there. Said his ship got outta orbit right before the place went up. Guess the Militia picked 'im up back at Angel City, threw 'im into this sewer grate and everything—"

He was avoiding the question. He knew what I was really asking, but I said it outright anyway, my voice coming out quieter than I anticipated as I cut him off. "He's not staying, is he?"

That sure shut him up. He kept staring straight forward, then turned his head slightly toward me, pursing his lips and blinking quickly. He'd always had that little 'tell' before he told anyone something they weren't going to like hearing. "…didn't say for sure," he whispered. "But…" He closed his eyes with defeat, and shook his head, turning to stare back at the loading area. "…no, I don't think so."

Exactly what I didn't want to hear, and yet exactly what I expected. Ever since Barker had left for Angel City, I had a feeling he wouldn't be coming back. Not permanently, at least. And if he really had helped the Militia blow up Demeter, I got the feeling they wouldn't want to get rid of an asset that lucrative. In some ways, the Militia are just like the IMC, I thought.

"Look, you know how it is… the people here, they- they need someone to look up to. Some… counsel, y'know, that's more than just the guy that just tells 'em how to make ale. Look, I know it eats up all my time, and I know it's hard being home alone taking care of your sister, but… but when Barker's gone, y'know, everyone trusts me. I gotta look out for 'em." He put a hand on my shoulder. "I gotta look out for you." I began to stare at the ground, and he pulled his hand away. "You remember what I told you when Barker first left? First thing I said to you after he put me in charge?"

I kept staring at the ground, pretending not to acknowledge him in protest, but after a few moments, I could feel a lump growing in my throat. I squeaked out, "'This job may be nothing to me, but it's everything to everyone else'", just as he had said right after he got home the day Barker left.

But it wasn't that moment that resounded in my mind when I spoke. It wasn't long after that that he'd had to stay working for three straight days to meet quota. When he ended up coming home, drenched in sweat and caked with soot and specks of grain… I barely recognized him. In that moment, he truly looked almost foreign to me. And for my _and_ my sister's sake, I didn't want it to get any worse than that. As long as Barker was blowing up planets for the Militia, I wouldn't really have a father.

"Listen, I should prob'ly tell ya… I've been askin' around." Dad broke the silence, his voice barely more than a low growl. He cleared his throat, and readjusted himself on the step. "You know Hermes, right?"

I grimaced, thinking for a moment on the name. "Sam Hermes? The shipping pilot?"

Dad nodded. "That's the one." He looked back out toward the loading area. "Look, I wasn't gonna say anything, but… he's been doing a lotta good work lately. Heard he even trained a couple o' people to run his routes."

I curled the corner of my mouth into a confused sneer. I didn't see how any of this related to either of us. "…and?"

My dad sighed, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. Did that all the time when he got kind of flustered. "What I'm tryin' to say is that _he's_ going to have more free time. Even _you_ know who he is." I turned to him quickly, misunderstanding the implication. He shrugged. "Because you work in a different area?" Oh. "Most importantly, people seem to like 'im." He swiveled, to turn and directly face me. "Ya get what I'm sayin'?"

I began to put the pieces together in my mind. My eyes widened, and I quickly turned toward Dad.

"We 'ad words tonight. He's interested. Still in the early stages and everything, but… figured it's best for you and your sister if I started my transition—"

It was all he could do to stop talking; I nearly knocked the wind out of him as I hugged him. Just felt right to do right then; I hadn't hugged him since I was a little kid. It didn't last long, though, as I quickly pushed away from him as I could feel the tears beginning to form in my eyes. Wasn't going to say that out loud, though. "Ya still smell like beer." I said, a little laughter seeping out between the words. I could feel the lump in my throat intensifying.

He let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, figured." He put his hands down on his knees, and stood up. I followed suit. "Better get home and get cleaned up. And you get to bed." He lowered his head to me commandingly. I pursed my lips and smiled, as he put his hand on my shoulder again, and together, we turned and made our way toward our house.

I jumped a little as a I heard a collection of loud voices yelling out behind us, and took a look over my shoulder. A massive crowd emerged from around the corner, and atop them, Barker was held aloft. I thought they were trying to sing "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow", but considering how drunk everyone was, it just sounded like inane screaming and sputtering. My dad and I exchanged a look, and both shook our heads and smiled, making our way toward the house.

We lived but a stone's throw away from the granary, so the sounds of the inebriated 'singing' (if you could even call it that) didn't fade too greatly as we entered. Dad slowly tried to guide the door shut as softly as he could when coming in, but he didn't look too satisfied upon continuing to hear the incoherent babbling from the drunks.

"Sure hope they didn't wake up your sister," he said in a low, rumbling whisper. "Why don't you go check up on her? I'm 'onna hit the shower; I'll be up in a few." He slowly sauntered around our island and slipped into the bathroom, softly closing the door as he had before.

A feeling of comfort began to wash over me; I slumped my shoulders and let out a deep sigh. Finally back home. It had been a full day: working as normal until Barker's return, wading through the crowds to get a single look at him, getting washed into the tavern by the waves of his adorers. Even hearing the news about Demeter had taken _some_ toll, I thought. Good to be behind familiar walls.

'Cozy' and 'bare essentials' were the sorts of terms my dad always threw around to describe our house. I saw it for what it was: a portable prefab apartment Barker had jacked from the IMC (or at least jacked from someone; Lord knows he'd never spend real money on the thing). A lower floor barely large enough to fit the kitchen and bathroom, and an upper floor full to bursting with our three small beds… but, at the very least, it was better than when dad first brought us here, when we were relegated to sleeping in the dropships. Despite how many fond memories I may have of my dad trying to make that fun for us. "It's just like a sleepover!" he'd say to my sister, trying to ease her mind. "Maybe we can sit up in the cockpit after you wake up and I can show you how they fly 'em!"

A weak smile reached my lips while I climbed the stairs, slowly unclasping my belt and reminiscing on times far gone. I remember my sister didn't seem too unhappy when we moved in here. Place was so small, "it's like the walls are always giving us a biiiig hug", I remember her saying the day we moved in.

Quickly, a flash of light cut through the darkness, before disappearing again, as I crested the stairs into the bedroom. As I suspected.

"You're still up?" I whispered, trying to project enough for her to hear, but for dad to stay oblivious downstairs. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could just make out my sister's head slowly revealing itself from beneath her blanket. I snickered quietly. "You can turn the flashlight back on. I don't think he'll be up for a few more minutes."

Light shot through the room again, emanating from her flashlight, and I could just make out that old placard she'd made in school, all sparkling above her. Seemed like so long ago that she'd put it together, but I vividly remembered the day she'd come home with it: so proud of herself and insisting she put it on the wall above her bed like a massive label. The 'L' was backwards, but at last the 'U', 'C', and 'Y' following it were rendered well enough. At least, well enough for letters drawn by a 7 year old out of fake plastic gemstones.

"Couldn't sleep." Her words sounded almost as slurred as my father's had that night. Seemed she really was tired; liked we'd feared, the loud singing must've woken her up.

"Heard all the celebrations, did you?" I said, taking a seat near at the foot of her bed.

"Mmmm… 'ss Dog Man back?" she groggily asked, while turning onto her back to look at me. 'Dog Man'. Hmph. When dad first mentioned Barker to us before we moved out here, she immediately asked if he must have been a talking dog. She was too old to think that now, but even so, the name stuck for her. Funny how 'Barker' isn't even his real name, and she'd still found something else to call him. I nodded to her, trying to turn away as she pointed the flashlight closer and closer to my eyes.

"Sssso's daddy coming home, 'en?" she whispered, seemingly falling back asleep. Her flashlight began to slip out of her hand. I'd hoped she'd fall asleep before I'd have to answer, but even as she closed her eyes, it was clear she was staying awake to hear what I'd say. The singing still went on outside, maybe even getting louder (although I thought they might have moved on to a different song, but I'd never have been able to tell either way).

I looked away, feeling my eyes begin to blink excessively. I'd gotten the old tell from my dad. Good thing Lucy's eyes were closed. "I don't know." I whispered, gently taking the flashlight from her hand and covering her up again with her blanket. "We'll see."

After a few moments, it didn't seem she was awake enough to keep talking. I stood up and headed over to my bed, stripping off my trousers and throwing them into the ever-growing pile of dirty laundry squeezed in the small space between the foot of Lucy's bed and the side of mine. Have to take care of that someday, I thought.

Next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, my limbs splayed out across my bed. Hadn't realized I was that tired, but as soon as I hit the mattress, the events of the day crashed down on me like a damned meteor.

Acting like I had it all together was being to take a toll, I suppose. Every night when I'd get off from work, I'd pass Lucy by outside while she played with her friends or chased a butterfly around, or… hell, I didn't even know what she was doing half the time. What if she was getting herself into trouble? It was only a three hour window between the end of "school" and when I got off work, but… it was just one more thing to worry about.

I suppose I can't blame her teacher, though. There must have been a dozen kids in the colony, smattered across all different age groups. Just one lady managing all of that, and trying to teach them something, must have been one helluva—

"Lucy!" Startled, I quickly sat up, beginning to feel a stiffness creep into my back. The whisper had come from the stairs, it seemed, and peering through the darkness, I could just make out my dad's head peaking up from the stairwell. "Luce!" He went again.

"She's not up," I responded in the same hushed tone.

"Are you?" Taking a shower hadn't sobered him up completely yet, I supposed.

"I'd certainly like not to be." All that stiffness in my back certainly wouldn't be going away if I was kept up all night. Wouldn't be getting better working tomorrow either.

"Well, get some pants on, I got summin' to show ya." Dad looked side to side, making himself look shiftier than he probably wanted to.

"Tomorrow," is all I could let out coherently before I felt my words begin to slur, and my eyelids begin to droop.

Suddenly, my dad shot across the room, forcefully enough to get me to jolt up in one adrenaline-driven movement, but gracefully enough that Lucy didn't move a muscle beneath her blanket in response. The day before, he had been complaining about back pain; either he was lying through his teeth, or just excited beyond description. Next I knew, he was standing directly over me. He held up a finger like he was making some profound point, grinning ear to ear.

"This can't wait," he said, his voice raising like he was giving a warning. I grimaced, as I slowly swung myself up from the bed. He looked back at Lucy's bed: still asleep, somehow. I took a step past him, making for the stairs. "Pants." Forgot the pants. Had to grab new ones; couldn't risk diving beneath the bed and waking Lucy. Plus, the ones I had shucked off earlier were already stinking up the room with the smell of sweat, oil, and ale. Except I hadn't drank any ale…

"I thought you said you took a shower." My dad looked a little insulted as I recoiled away from him slightly before squinting and searching the room for another pair of trousers.

"Had to say somethin'. Was jus' goin' ta check on my little su'prise." He'd started sounding both buzzed _and_ tired; not a good combination.

"Let's just hurry this up so I can go to bed…" I whined through gritted teeth, pulling on a pair of old trousers and making my way down the stairs. Dad was close in tow; I decided to walk just a little slower to make sure I was there in case he passed out. Then again, despite the adrenaline kicking in, I still felt like I could pass out any second, too.

Dad took the lead, and started leading me toward the eastern side of the colony, always stopping occasionally to slink close to a wall and peer around like he was trying to be stealthy. Each time, he'd quickly flatten himself against the closest surface, peer around the corner a couple times, then beckon me forward. No clue who he was trying to hide from; even the singing crowd had all dispersed and gone home, and there weren't any housing units on this side of the colony, just storage sheds and tertiary operations posts.

Eventually, he came to a stop outside one of the larger storage sheds: a huge garage, though despite its size, it's not one I had ever seen anyone using. Hands on his hips, he stood back and admired it, looking on it like some grand accomplishment. "You know what's in here?" He was almost speaking normally again, although obviously keeping his voice down for fear of waking anyone. Nearly everyone else in the town was sleeping off the 'festivities', though, so there really was no need to keep quiet.

I shook my head at him. "Some old-ass booze…?"

"Hey!" He became stern, and turned to me with an derogatory finger stuck out. "Language." Must've lost my finger. I mean filter. Damn, I was so tired I couldn't even think straight, let alone stop myself from swearing. Dad put his finger down, and curled the corners of his mouth up again with satisfaction. "It's not booze. Believe me, 'f there was any booze stored anywhere, someone woulda drunk it a long time ago." Well, he wasn't wrong about that.

He produced a key from his pocket: an old thing, ornate in a way; not like a keycard or radio key like we usually used for storage, but a real metal key. Last time I'd seen one of those was years and years back, before we even lived out here. It may have been archaic, but so many people disregarded them entirely, that they'd become even more secure than a hackable code panel or replicable key card after a while.

Dad leaned down and clutched the heavy silver lock in the palm of his hand, fumbling at first as he tried the key every which way, until he let out a low noise of satisfaction, pulling the lock forcefully off its clasp and throwing it down next to the rusted metal garage door. He squatted down, taking the bottom of the door in both hands, and attempted to lift it. After a mere moment, he faltered, his hands slipping away from the door and falling to the ground to stabilize him. Whatever injury he had in his back had gotten to him; I was surprised he I rushed towards him, leaning down and putting my hand on his shoulder. On his knees, he leaned back, putting his hands on his hips and panting furiously.

"You, uh…" He took a moment to regain his composure. "You go 'head and open it," he said between huffs and puffs. I didn't budge. "I'll be fine," he reassured, his tone lightening. He motioned to the door of the massive garage, leaning back a bit to stretch his back.

I stood and tepidly approached the door. What could be so gigantic that it had to be stored in here? On that note, how could something so large have been moved into here without me noticing? I bent my knees down, and grabbed onto the door. As I pulled it up, I began to think about dad's back injury: lifting the door was quite the inconsequential task. If he couldn't even do that, then he was worse off than I had expected. Maybe it was the ale taking its toll, but either way, dad taking some off would really do him good.

The darkness in the garage was downright palpable, so much so that even squinting hard, I couldn't see anything inside. Dad, finally standing with a long grunt, took a step inside the building, the shadow nearly swallowing him as he distanced himself from me. I could see well enough that he was proudly resting his hand on some kind of large mound, and from the sound of it, whatever his hand had touched was metallic, and hollow.

"I figured, y'know, without me there to watch over ya, once I give the place over to Hermes…" He hesitated. Sounded like he was almost in tears; I would have said I'd never seen him that sentimental, if I could have seen him at all through the night. "Well… things'll be different. You deserve an easier job, you deserve to be able to come on home earlier, and… aw, hell, you just deserve to have a little fun, even at work."

Reaching high to the ceiling, straining, he clicked the switch of a small hanging work lamp. Even through the light of a single dim bulb, and though I'd never seen one in-person before, I knew exactly what I was staring at. Its stature. Its vaguely humanoid form. The metallic chassis. Dad didn't need to say anything, but he did anyway, perhaps just for dramatic effect.

"It's called a Titan." Dad looked it up and down, then looked to me for approval. I could tell now, in his eyes, he was desperately looking for it.

My first step toward the thing was filled with trepidation; I almost feared the thing was going to come to life and crush me right there. The stories people passed around about Titans: mowing down civilians, crushing homes under their feet with families still inside, ripping each other apart and grinding enemy Pilots into pulp… again, I'd never seen a Titan in person, but upon closer examination, this thing didn't look like it could do any of those things.

Although my initial fear had simply come from its towering stature, it soon faded once I realized the damn thing was barely even intact. Every last metal plate, shoddily welded onto the next, held some degree of rust or other wear. The armor plates on the arms were disheveled, a couple of them half severed from their neighbors, dangling off and waving subtly in the wind. Its hands looked almost crumpled, and there was no weapon in sight. What little luster its various external sensors could have emitted was lost to the scratches and cracks on their surfaces. On its main chassis, some symbol I could only assume was of IMC origin had been halfheartedly scratched off and mutilated, though it was still clear as day. Spying the inner pistons and hydraulics was all too easy, as it was all thinly veiled by the spotty metal plating.

And every inch of it amazed me.

I stood there, mouth half agape, scanning side to side, taking in every detail of the metal monstrosity before me. Dad broke the silence, continuing to hope for some kind of affirmation.

"It's called an Atlas model, actually. Not quite as fancy as the new prototypes I've heard Vinson's been working on lately, but…" He seemed to avoid eye contact with me, continually looking the Titan up and down. "You never saw the world before the Titan Wars, but we used to use these things for any damn thing you could think of. Plowin', transportin'... and o'course heavy liftin'." Now, he looked over to me for the first time. Feeling his gaze on me, I looked over at him. I could feel the lump in my throat coming back again as my dad continued to speak. "Your whole job is liftin' and... don't want you to end up like me." His hand instinctively moved toward his lower back again, if only for a moment. That said, it hadn't occurred to me that the Atlas might actually function at all, let alone in any capacity to lift anything.

"You mean this thing runs?" I looked over to him for the first time since we'd opened the garage, a mixture of surprise and awe in my eyes.

"Eh, you'd be better off callin' 'er a 'she' than a 'thing'" He gave me a sideways look, somehow expecting me to know that already. "And 'course she's operational… wouldn'ta bought 'er if she wasn't." He mosied over to my side. "Hermes's prob'ly the only one who'd have a chance at fixin' 'er up if she was damaged… hell, it was his idea to buy her in the first place."

"Where did you even get it? And how'd you even get it out here?" I was puzzled; sure, he had gone on a few trips off-world to negotiate supply deals and try to make sure the IMC stayed off our trail, but bringing back a Titan? That would've drawn some attention.

"Ah, Hermes clued me in to a few abandoned IMC shipments out on Typhon," he remarked proudly. "Word's had it they've been settin' up shop there since Demeter. Then again, everything's in such a… such a…" He searched for the word. "Like a… disarray. No way to talk to IMC command means no supply manifests, means a few busted up old Titans won't really be missed, right?" Giving the Titan a few satisfactory pats, I noticed him causing a few nuts and bolts to fall out from somewhere, clinking loudly against the ground. He tried to ignore it, trying in vain to hide an uncomfortable look on his face.

I still didn't purvey any kind of affirmation to him. Not that I wasn't grateful but, frankly, I didn't know what to think. Going from barely keeping my head above water to my dad quitting his job and coming to be under the ownership of a Titan was a pretty big leap.

"No use in askin' what ya think 'til ya…" Dad trailed off, straining and grunting as he gained a foothold in the Atlas's knee and pulled himself up slightly to pull some kind of release, causing the cockpit to open. I watched on, still in awe, as the hydraulics sharply released some steam, the Titan seemed to lean forward, and the hatch fell open in front of me like a massive gaping mouth. Dad slowly touched back down. "...take 'er for a spin, right?"

"You're insane." My response was immediate. No way he could actually think I could pilot this thing, let alone without any competent supervision, and being barely lucid myself. "Why don't you sleep off the ale and show me tomorrow?"

"Come on," Dad pleaded. "It's not too dif'rent from drivin' the forklifts down on the loading bay. Plus, there's supposed to be some kinda voice guide installed in all o' these. It's like riding a bike, ya know?"

"I haven't ridden a bike in years…"

"Not literally." Sounded a bit irritated at my snark, but he swiftly lightened up again. "Just get in. Ya don't even have to move, just get the feel o' the controls a second."

I doubted I'd be able to dissuade him, in either of our current states. Reluctantly, I took a step into the open hatch, and nearly recoiled as the soft velvet under my foot reminded me of the mouth comparison again. My resolve returned shortly, and I pulled myself up into the pilot's chair, resting my arms shakily to meet the onboard controls. It was surprisingly comfortable, though still noticeably foreign. Suddenly, another hydraulic rush of air sounded out, and the hatch quickly snapped closed. Startled, I jolted, feeling the ramshackle Titan shake all around me.

"Oh. I don't thinks it's 'posed to do that." His voice was slightly muffled, but it surprised me that I could hear him as well as I could from inside the humongous humanoid. "I'll get Hermes to see 'f he can fix 'er. Go ahead and start 'er up."

Figured it was useless to ask him exactly how I was supposed to do that, as he likely had about as much of a clue as I did. I examined the controls beneath my tentatively resting hands. Dad had been right before; the controls didn't seem too foreign after a few years of having to operate a forklift: there were controls for power management, drive, and some extra controls I presumed were for its nonexistent weaponry. That said, there was no ignition or turnover control in sight. The only thing that didn't seem to have any surmisable use was a strange circle that didn't have tactile interactivity. About the diameter of an orange, it sat inert directly below my left hand. I tried as carefully as I could to agitate it in some way, but it was to no avail. I inhaled sharply, and sighed heavily, readying myself to buck up and yell out to dad.

Immediately as I thought this, the cockpit filled with life, lights appearing from every direction, whirring and clicking abounding as I felt the entire chassis spring to life beneath me. We hadn't even moved yet, and it already had me feeling queasy.

"There ya go," I could hear my dad say through the commotion. "Just like Hermes had it. Now, 'ss gonna be a voice that pops up-"

"Pilot onboard. Beginning neural analysis." The voice was obviously a computerized imitation of a female: calm, collected, and possessing a faint accent. "Warning: neural link hardware incompatible with current chassis. Please migrate SERE kit to compatible chassis to unlock combat functionality."

"Don't worry 'bout that," Dad yelled to me. "A couple errors's just the price we pay for grabbin' an ol' beat up Titan."

Next thing I knew, a few small panels flipped open on the hatch in front of me, the inviting green velvet interior thrown back to reveal a collection of lenses glowing with red and blue light. Startlingly, the lenses produced a series of light beams that shot up and down my body, before disappearing and hiding away beneath the velvet as quickly as they had appeared.

"Analyzing," came the voice again, monotone and unchanging. "Pilot neural map catalogued. Accessing databases…"

"Just give it a minute," yelled Dad again, desperately trying to keep me calm. "Let it reject ya, and make a new entry or whatever an' we can get started-"

The Titan's voice interrupted him. "Match found. Migrating corresponding database entries."

"The hell?" Dad obviously hadn't anticipated this, his cheerful demeanor diminishing. "Always gave me an' Hermes some kinda error." I could hear him taking a few paces outside. "Maybe your brain map's close enough to mine it didn't need to make a new one."

"Neural map database updated. Beginning progressive caching of pilot interaction details. Protocol one: link to pilot. Warning: neural link hardware incompatible with current chassis. Please migrate SERE kit to compatible chassis to enable AI combat functionality." Each succeeding statement came just as quickly as the last. "Protocol two: uphold the mission. Mission parameters…" It stopped. Strange how it had said everything so quickly and coldly, but paused now. Guess it didn't have any mission. "Protocol three: protect the pilot. Pilot detected. Transferring control to pilot."

I jolted back again as the panels I had mistaken for velvet one by one began to gain light, each beginning to display a small segment of the world outside until I had a full view of the area in front of me. Maybe it was just the brightness of the screens, but looking out to the horizon, it looked like the sun had almost begun to rise again. My dad stood directly in front of the Titan, squinting as its lights shone down on him.

"There ya go. Can ya see me?" he asked.

I nodded, and went rigid once I realized… the entire Titan was mimicking me. Dad must have noticed my hesitation.

"There ya go! You got the hang of it!" The corners of his mouth began to involuntarily curl upward, a tentative grin forming. "Now, just slowly ease forward on the control pad. Should be on your left."

He must have been referring to the inert circle I'd noticed earlier, but looking over toward it, I realized that it, too, had lit up, displaying a circle that constantly moved and changed sizes. Dad turned and looked behind him a moment, and spoke to confirm my own suspicions.

"Don't wait too long, now, sun's comin' up."

Right. I rested the pads of my fingers on the surface of the control pad, and instinctively extended my first two fingers forward. My muscles tensed reflexively as I felt my entire encasement lurch forward. The Titan took a single thunderous step forward, nearly knocking my dad down as he jumped out of the way.

Astounded, he gazed up at me, likely not knowing he was looking me directly in the eye through the Titan's viewfinder, his mouth slightly agape. "Yeah… yeah, you got the hang of it." His voice harbored a slight twinge of fear. I imagined that, had I been speaking, my voice would have sounded even worse. Dad motioned to me, beckoning, and still squinting up at me. "Alright, I think that's enough. Get on out, let's head home."

Don't have to tell me twice, I thought. One of the first things I had noticed inside the cockpit was the release, directly above the hatch. I reached up grabbed the handle, pulling it down forcefully. The hatch didn't budge.

"Warning: pilot interaction detail download incomplete. Reliance on AI functionality inadvisable."

Dad rolled his eyes and stormed out of my view, moving around behind the Titan. "Damned thing… hold on a minute, I'll open the top hatch."

"Weren't you the one that told me not to call her a thing?" I immediately regretted speaking so loudly, as I realized my voice was amplified through the Titan to the outside world.

"Not so loud!" I heard my dad squeak out, his ears undoubtedly half shot. I'd likely woken up a few people in the colony as well; hopefully, they were all too hungover to investigate. "Anyway… if she's gonna act like a 'thing', I'm gonna treat 'er like a 'thing'. Let's get you outta there."

Dad's footsteps reverberated throughout the whole inner cavern in which I resided.

"Warning: enemy pilot is attached to the hull," stated the Titan's computer voice.

"Yeah, yeah…" dismissed Dad. Above me, I heard him clamoring, the loud screeching sound of metal scraping on metal permeating the cockpit. Eventually, more light flooded in from above me, and I saw Dad staring down, offering his hand to me. "Alrighty, up and out."

Grabbing his hand, I reached up the grab the rim of the hatch, and used them both to pull myself up. Was barely able to fit through the small porthole. I made a mental note to check my weight when I got home; must've been getting a little bulkier, for better or worse.

As Dad and I climbed down off the back of the Titan, we heard it speak again. "Be advised: pilot interaction profile fully downloaded. Beginning application of packet one: IFF functionality."

"She's really talkative this time," Dad said as we reached the ground. "I'm glad she gets along with you."

"You call… _whatever just happened_ … 'getting along'?" I asked, trying to breathe deeply to supplement the anxious tightening in my chest.

"Sure. You were actually able to move 'er." He shrugged, with a smug look on his face. "That's better than most first-timers, I'd think." We began to move around the front of the Titan.

"How would you know?" I asked quizzically. "You said everyone used to use Titans, but you didn't seem to have a clue about how this one worked."

He looked a bit distant, trying to recall something from long ago, I imagined. "Well… Titans were different back then. Hell, everything was." As we crossed over to the front of the Titan, I wondered what he must have been pondering. Maybe it had something to do with my-

"Pilot, be advised: known Militia affiliates in your AO," stated the Titan. Obviously, it was talking to me, but as before, the volume was high enough to wake up the whole damn colony. Had it been that loud before I had gotten in?

My dad's eyelids drooped, obviously fed up with the Titan's antics. "No shit," he said under his breath. I don't even think he cared if I heard at that point. We were both exceptionally tired, no doubt. He turned toward the Titan, and I followed suit, to find the thing leaned forward, looming over us with the massive, glowing metal eye in the middle of its chest, the light causing us both to throw our hands in front of our faces.

Dad turned his head away, still (in vain) blocking the light with his hand. "Why don'tcha tell 'er to shut down for the day, son?" He turned on his heel to gain some respite from the incredible shine. He put his hand onto my shoulder with a resounding _slap_. "Let's head home."

"Militia aggression detected. Protocol 3." It happened so quickly, neither of use had any time to react. The Titan's arm shot straight forward, taking my shoulder (and by extension, my dad's hand) between its hulking forefinger and thumb. It began to squeeze, its vice grip causing the bones in my shoulder to bow. I could feel the stress beginning to splinter every major bone in that vicinity, while my dad grunted and squealed, clawing at the magnanimous fingers to no avail. Undoubtedly, his other hand was completely mangled.

I could barely manage to speak through the immense pain. "F- stop! Fuggin' stop!" I managed to scream, immediately prompting the Titan to return to its original position.

"Command authenticated," it said matter-of-factly, standing inert, as if the previous thirty seconds have never happened.

Dad fell to the ground, clutching at his destroyed hand. There was surprisingly little blood, but his fingers and thumb were absolutely mutilated internally, every finger pointing in a direction is was most certainly not designed for, and his forearm sporting a sizeable purple protrusion.

I grabbed at my shoulder, with every pulse and throb bringing a new wave of pain into it. Pivoting it even remotely was completely out of the question; I could almost feel it swelling thoroughly beneath my free hand.

I managed to drag myself over to dad's weak form, with him still writing on the ground and producing all manner of expletives. I knelt down next to him, taking extra care to keep my gimped shoulder level.

"Sh- shut that bitch down," he sputtered, beginning to hyperventilate. "You- you're gonna have to help me across the colony. My back's shot, kid, and my arm's completely-"

"Pilot: advise you rendezvous with an IMC-certified combat medic if you are in need of medical treatment." The Titan stayed still, and though its voice was as monotone as ever, I couldn't help but sense some kind of smug aura from it. "Nearest detachment is 0.5 kliks east of your position."

"The… hell?" I questioned under my breath between labored sucks of air. I only pondered for a moment on what she could mean, before I heard them.

Dad strained to pull his head up, staring off in the same direction as I was. His breath only became more labored, and his mere overtaxed exhalations spelled exactly how he felt.

On the eastern horizon, rising in tandem with the edge of the nascent sun: IMC carriers, surrounded by swift dropships, headed directly for the colony.

"Pilot: friendly squadron incoming. Do you require escort to the nearest medical officer?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dad whipped his head around forcefully, settling after a moment to look me straight in the eye. "Your sister," he said, his breath gaining but a moment of calmness. "Get back to the house-" A massive groan cut him off before he continued. "Nnh… get the rifle; hide in the basement with your sister." His speech was obviously gravely labored.

I shook my head, feeling the tendons strain against my bum shoulder. "Dad… neither of us can do anything alone-"

"You can do a helluva lot more than me right now." He began panting heavily again, clutching, his destroyed hand and shaking uncontrollably. "Just go! Someone'll find me."

"Didn't you hear?" I instinctively motioned wildly to the Titan with my bad arm, quickly wincing and pulling it back in pain. That was going to take some getting used to. "They're headed right this way!"

"Someone… will… find… me!" He spaced out the words emphatically, trying his best to be so damned difficult that I'd have no choice but to leave him behind. "Grab the rifle, let off a few signal shots outside, and get to safety." His words veiled so much anger, but I knew none of it was directed toward me. "Now go, go!"

I could see it in his eyes: there was nothing left to say. In the distance, the engines of the IMC ships could be heard, their growling growing closer and more sinister every passing moment. It was all I could do to share one last look with Dad. His mouth was straining; he clearly wasn't in a good enough shape to keep talking. Instead, he offered just a single nod in my direction, which I reciprocated. Looking in his eyes before I turned away, I saw the only hopes he carried: my and Lucy's survival. I turned and began to shuffle as quickly as I could back toward our hermitage.

The entire colony had finally gotten a clue by the time I passed the halfway point. Several people I had known to constantly live in fear of the IMC, I'd seen waddling out of their housing units, rubbing their eyes sheepishly only to spread them wide as they noticed the veritable cavalcade on the horizon. Within minutes, the entire area was in disarray, the manner of which was unlike any I'd ever seen. Adults and children alike were running to and fro, everyone seemingly ignoring everyone else in the commotion. Most held expressions of wide-eyed confusion, likely due in no small part to everyone's being hungover. I began to think: shouldn't this be the one time we'd want to work together more than ever? That said, I don't think anyone really knew exactly what to do. How long could we have expected to live in peace, taunting the IMC with our infamous yet wholly illicit venture? The war finding us wasn't a matter of _if_ , but of _when_. That said, it couldn't have come at a worse ' _when_ '.

I quickly turned to the sky as I approached our house. Our little metal cottage had become completely shrouded in the shadow of the IMC carriers above, sending a chill up my spine counteracting the bombardment of pulsations being emitted from the IMC ships.

Throwing the door open, nearly knocking it off its beat-up hinges, I stormed into the house and immediately made for the kitchen. Dad kept the rifle at the bottom of our kitchen's island, in a hollowed out space behind a wood board we'd disguised as floor trimming years ago. Even so, the old thing was still covered in dust; no one had even acknowledged its existence in years.

My shoulder was absolutely screaming, but I pushed it to the back of my mind, dragging the rifle across the floor and out into the open. The dust it kicked up set a fire in my lungs, and also revealed the 'G2A4' insignia emblazoned on the receiver. What the hell did Dad expect me to do with this? Even if my dominant shoulder wasn't positively decimated as it was, I barely even remembered how to fire the thing. I remembered how I'd bragged to the other kids in school, how I was the only one among them who had actually fired a gun. In truth, it was just as well; I'd only pulled the trigger once in my lifetime, years and years in the past all the while Dad stood behind me, steadying me against the recoil. I was no marksman, that much was obvious.

With any luck, I wouldn't need to shoot anything… or, shoot _at_ anything, at any rate. Everyone was well aware of the situation, if the continuing din outside was of any indication. Firing off a few signal rounds as Dad had suggested wouldn't be necessary.

I quickly made for the stairs, rifle in tow tucked into my good arm. Lucy was probably hiding under the covers of her bed. Or having seen her last night, she probably slept through all this, I thought, taking solace in the slight grin I felt invade my-

Gone. The room was far too small, our beds too low, and her very presence far too conspicuous for her to be hiding anywhere out of my sight. Lucy wasn't in our room. My heart damn near stopped.

I spun on my heel and dashed back downstairs into the bathroom, dropping the rifle on the floor and falling to my knees, beginning to run my fingers along the tiles. Much like the rifle, we hadn't used the basement in years. Hell, chances were Lucy wouldn't have even remembered it was there. But it was the only place she could be; she _had_ to be down there. The thought of her being out there in all that calamity… she _had_ to be down there.

Detecting the edge of the floor panel, I ripped upward with my remaining arm, sending the facade panel across the room. I lay down on my belly, lowering the rifle as far as I could before dropping it unceremoniously, then spinning on my chest and jumping down into the dark.

I hadn't remembered the basement being so dank, but as soon as I reached the damp dirt floor, I could overtly feel the mold penetrating my nostrils. Whose idea was it to make a basement directly below the biggest producer of moisture in the house? Lucy wouldn't last long down here, I thought.

"Hey!" I let out softly, in that yelling-while-still-whispering manner you use when you can't get too loud. "Lucy! Luce, it's me!"

No answer. Couldn't even hear her her breathing, and Lord knows she'd be on the brink of hyperventilating if she'd ended up seeing what was going on outside.

I felt around near my feet until I was greeted with the cold touch of gun metal. I snaked my hand along the barrel until my fingers reached the flashlight beneath the muzzle. I twisted it, and it flicked on, adequately illuminating the entire space. Sure enough, it was empty, save myself and the mold.

It was a struggle to climb out with only one arm, and even more so while trying to shimmy up with the rifle in tow, but I eventually made it back into the bathroom, kicking the floor panel back into place. It made a resounding ' _thunk_ ' as it sunk back into its allotted indentation.

Just then, it hit me: the commotion outside had completely ceased. Not a single footstep penetrated the walls of our home.

I edged along the wall back to reach the door, still ajar from when I had burst in. Slowly, I craned my neck around the edge of the door, trying to get a glimpse of the outside.

Fittingly, not a soul in sight. Where had everyone gone? There weren't many places to hide, and even fewer avenues by which to escape.

Seemingly from nowhere, a voice spliced through the silence. For a moment, I'd thought it might have been God, looking down on me and finally saying, 'Well... you're screwed, kid'. It might as well have been, given what the voice truly purveyed.

"Attention civilians: this is Commander Kuben Blisk, operating under the authority of the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation. We've already taken many of your compatriots onto custody." Well, that'd explain where all the people out in the open had gone off too. That also meant the progenitor of this voice wasn't too far off from me. "This is an unauthorized colonization effort, brimming with illicit commercial ventures. Even worse, you're harboring the escaped fugitive Robert Taube, and are in possession of stolen IMC military paraphernalia."

Barker. Wasn't a surprise they'd come for him. That's one problem with being the hero, I supposed: to someone else, you're always the villain, and that 'someone else' might just have an army to back them up. Everything else was semantics; they'd never have have come for us if Barker hadn't rode in on his shining steed. What a way to equate his beat-up-ass shuttle, I thought.

After a very short and weighty pause, the voice continued. "I'd ask you to produce the fugitive and stolen property… but judging by the ones we've already picked up, you Militia types still tend to turn your noses up to the law. Let's see how you fare in the face of _real_ power." It was at that time it struck me that this 'Blisk' must have been speaking through a loudspeaker, because from far off, I heard him yell without using it. "Deploy the Spectres! I'm dying to get out of this shithole."

A collection of loud metallic banging and whirring sounds echoed through the colony. This can't be good, I thought. Some of the guys at the tavern were in the loop with Vinson Dynamics; word had it, the IMC had commissioned the design of mechanical warfare units some time ago, and since, they'd been running abhorrent experiments on people, trying to implant human consciousness into a robotic body. That was a logical, even exciting, scientific frontier.

What? No. Can't believe that thought crossed my mind. Logical for the IMC, maybe, but not for basic humanitarian identity. Either way, whatever the IMC was about to throw my way, I wasn't eager to meet it. Priority number one was finding Lucy, finding Dad, and getting the hell outta dodge. Then… leaving the colony? Region? Planet? Giving up our lives to go to another planet, again?

Couldn't think about that. Needed to focus on priority one.

To my right, I heard a massive _slam_ , followed by the sound of scattering debris accompanied by massive reverberation beneath my feet. The dust generated cleared quickly, and I recognized its source immediately. I'd heard about those things: drop pods. Thing was only about 30 meters off, at the end of the row of housing units. Any troops inside would find me in no time, basement or no basement. And I'd be just as screwed, armed or not. I wasn't going to wait around to die. Before any sign of life emerged from the pod, I slinked around the edge of the door frame and ran across the path, ducking behind the next building.

I fidgeted with the rifle, shaking it into a position where I could maybe fire it, my hand along the curvature of the stock just behind the trigger guard. I'd have to drag it behind me and risk clogging the barrel, but I'd risk it for the ability to quickly pull up and shoot. Wasn't like I'd be able to hit anything either way.

I lurched along the side wall of the building I'd reached, hugging against it and trying to distance myself from the drop pod. My best course of action would be to move through the main 'shine production building, and out through the west egress. If nothing else, I'd be on the other side of the colony from where they were dropping troops.

There came to be an area in front of me I recognized: the stairway into the grain repository where I'd sat reminiscing happily just a few hours prior. Seemed completely removed from that memory now. This was likely the last time I'd get to see the place. How fragile it could truly be, I thought; place had stood for years through time and turmoil, serving us well. After today, it'd be a distant memory, no matter where we ended up.

I rolled along the corner, checking the adjacent path for any presence. Both to my own relief and chagrin, no one was there at all. It was just a few feet to the granary entrance, but I'd have to cross in front of the main lane, giving any IMC forces on the east dock a clear view - and by extension, a clear shot - directly at me.

How many were down there? Despite having heard the voice of… what was his name? Bisque? Despite having heard him yelling, I hadn't actually seen what I was dealing with. Kneeling down, I craned my head around the corner, just as I had been doing several times during this whole ordeal.

Shit. Immediately, I recoiled back, sucking in my breath to make as little noise as possible. Not ten meters away, a monstrous squadron of what I could only describe as 'robotic soldiers with pointed jackal heads and fierce glowing eyes' marched toward me. All I could tell was that they were travelling in rows of five or six, and moving directly on an intercept course with my path into the granary. Wasn't able to tell just how _many_ rows of the things there were, but suffice it to say there were just too many to count, with a massive brute of a Titan standing at the back watching them roll out. It was only once I was aware their extreme proximity that I became cognizant of their footsteps: subtle enough to be mistaken for basic machinery, but distinctive enough to drive a cold fear into my core.

No way I could make it across into the granary door. I'd have to go around and cut across the repository, and simply hope they wouldn't catch wind of me through the now open port. Usually, if the granary or repository was left open, we'd all have our bosses screaming at us about 'contamination' or some other banal shit, but at that point, it seemed everyone had had the same idea: abandon all hope, run for your life.

Continually watching my flank for the 'jackals', I ducked down the path to my right. If I timed it properly, I'd be able to duck into the side repository entrance just as the robot squadron was forced to turn at the fork in the road and encircle the granary. I could slip out before they met back up at the other side, and make my way back around the perimeter to the shuttle takeoff area. At that point, I had to trust that someone had scooped Lucy up and brought her somewhere to evacuate.

Wait, didn't that IMC commander say they'd already picked people up? I couldn't risk leaving anyone here. What about Lucy? What about Dad? Wha- what was my goal really? Just to stay alive? Was I the last one left in this entire damn colony?

My mind was racing so frantically, my head almost physically started wavering. Had to calm down. If I was going to circle back around to the shuttles, I'd pass by where I'd had to leave Dad. If he wasn't there, I'd have to assume he'd been picked up… and would have to hope it was by the right people. His words resounded in my brain: "Someone will find me!"

The pain in my shoulder was beginning to subside a bit, but my whole left arm was still completely out of commission. Had to ignore it; had to do everything I could.

I came around the side of a smaller garage into a small grove, flattened faces of rock protruding through the grass and obscuring my view of the coming mechanical onslaught. Focusing, I could still hear their footsteps, although timing my run for the side entrance to the repository would prove difficult while applying such mental fortitude to focusing on the footsteps. Squinting, I managed to see the porthole, just small enough to duck through, and fully opened just like the other entrance. I'd have to clamber up the outcropping, a tall order in my condition, but after that, it was a straight shot to the opening.

Had to be fast, even faster than if I'd had both arms usable on a good day. Getting a running start to the rocks helped a bit, but on the last and highest ledge, I'd have get a running start parallel to it and use my momentum to swing my rifle up and use it as leverage. Once I was up, I'd be free to make my run.

I took a few steps along the ledge, steadying myself slightly against the raised earth. Falling from here would do nothing but harm. As I backtracked along the edge, a memory suddenly invaded the forefront of my mind.

Was three, maybe four months ago. Couldn't be sure. Lucy stood about where I was, climbing up the little cliffs on which I stood. Damned things stood up to her eye level, but she effortlessly managed to throw one arm over the top, pivoting her hips to swing her legs up onto the surface. She spun around on her stomach, jumping up to reveal her entire torso covered in mud and soot. Lucy started jumping up and down, nearly devolving into jumping jacks as she bobbed excitedly.

"Look! I did it!" she shouted excitedly. I had just happened to be passing by, grabbing a box as I was wont to do at work.

I shot her a smile. "Good job!" Probably sounded about as half-hearted as it could get. Couldn't really offer more, my mind focused so much on work.

"Daddy, look!" Her gaze drifted away, to some area behind me. I turned to look the same way, my smile fading as I saw him. Dad was arguing with someone, far off at the edge of the outcropping. Tensions were high; Dad gesticulated at his opponent wildly, occasionally motioning toward me and my sister. In my memory, I could've sworn I recognized the other person, but couldn't pin down a single detail. Memory's funny like that, I supposed. Even Dad looked wrong; his eyes grey, lifeless, almost like he wasn't fully there somehow.

Wait… could I climb up the last ledge just like Lucy had? I snapped back to the present. If I pulled myself onto the cliff just as she had, I'd be primed to quickly slither along the ground into the hatch. As long as the surrounding ferns and brush kept me covered, I'd essentially guarantee my safe passage. Not only that, but I'd only have to use one arm, and I could use the rifle to steady myself!

I was in position. Still had to be quick, but madly precise. I wound my arm back like I was about to throw something, and launched my good arm, rifle and all, up onto the ledge, my lower body following swiftly in tow.

 _Bang._ So quickly had I moved, there was no chance to do a thing before my massive blunder took its toll. And so hard had I slammed the rifle, it had fired, sending a stray round vaguely in the direction of the robots, and even worse, toward where I had seen that hulk of a Titan with them. Remembered how Dad used to go off on people who carried guns around the colony with a round already chambered. Told them how dangerous that was for the kids, asked what they were afraid of. I wondered if he'd somehow known this kind of thing would happen. He's a lot of things, I thought, but not that heavy of a hypocrite.

My ears were ringing something awful, but I was in position to make my run. Wasn't able to tell what was going on with the approaching robots, but no doubt the shot had been heard, or sensed, or whatever robots did. There wasn't much time before they'd be on top of me.

My mind suddenly became clearer than ever before. Looking back at how I'd remembered Lucy and Dad… it provided some kind of laser focus onto my very desire to stay alive. The choice was simple: stay, and wait for the robots to crush me even worse than I already was, or make for the granary.

My legs acted before I even consciously made the decision. My feet dug into the clay, dirt, and soot, propelling forward into a mighty bound toward my destination, leaving the gun in the dust and freeing my usable hand. I would have continued on all fours, had my arm been in good shape. The clarity, the energy: it was primal, almost animal.

In but a few bounds, I had reached the opening, my heart beating faster than I'd ever felt before. Wasn't going to bother looking to see if the bots had seen me; my heart was close to bursting out of my chest, as it stood.

I managed to duck into the opening, and drop down onto the metal walkway bordering each side of the grain repository. I'd only been in here once before, and for good reason: generally, they try to keep it locked up tight to prevent "contamination". Truly, you couldn't contaminate such a massive quantity of grain so easily, and the kind of people who drank the swill we made probably wouldn't care anyway.

In front of me sat all the grain we'd harvested. Something about the soil on this planet made it grow just about as fast as we could harvest it. As such, we'd collected hills and hills of the stuff; the mounds of it we'd stockpiled were literal meters deep, all flowed together in this bountiful golden sea before me… not that it particularly mattered, anymore.

"'Ey!"

The call came from across the sea of grain, just barely surmounting the ringing in my ears. I instinctively ducked down, throwing my good arm out to the side for balance; not sure if I was reflexively trying to hide, or just make a smaller target.

I peered out across the grain, and took a few careful steps to my right as I noticed someone at the other end of the room. They hadn't shot at me yet, so my best assumption was that they were friendly… or, about as friendly as one could get in this situation.

Squinting and shifting my focus, I could make out one person, crouching down almost in the same manner as myself. They seemed to have been cowering in the corner of the room, interrupted only by my entrance. Couldn't make out the voice from what I'd heard, but after a few moments, I realized who it was.

Sam Hermes, our pilot and my Dad's prospective replacement, was the one I saw. He had a frantic look on his face, accentuated by his very visage: eyes so reddened I could tell from all the way over where I was, even behind his translucent pilot's goggles, and unkempt facial hair like he couldn't decide whether having a beard was the right choice or not.

He was just staring over at me, a mixture of surprise and fear permeating his expression. His jaw was quivering; he had something to say, but maybe he just hadn't the courage to say anything more for fear of alerting the robots outside.

Hermes's fear wasn't unfounded: we both twisted our heads toward the main grain repository entrance as the sound of motors whirring and metallic footsteps echoed throughout the chamber. Looking back to each other, we exchanged a look of knowing exactly where we each stood.

There was no clear walkway from the main entrance to where I stood, though one could potentially walk across the grain to reach me. On the other hand, the area where Hermes resided was directly connected to the main entrance with a short metallic boardwalk. I think we both saw in each other's eyes the same idea: simultaneously, we both jumped feet first into the grain, frantically using our (available) arms to bury ourselves like crabs in the sand on a beach.

I wasn't in as advantageous a position as Hermes was to do this, but the footsteps drew ever closer. Once I was beneath a thorough layer of grain and dust, I used my arms to try to swim to a corner, shoving my face against the metal to ensure that I still had a channel for breathable air. My mind was flooded with panic. _Will they see me? What if they dig me out? Are they going to round me up like they did the rest, or will they kill me on sight?_ Every moment I wasted, Dad and Lucy moved farther and farther away-

Silence.

No, perhaps not: the sounds of motors hadn't waned, but the metallic footsteps had vanished, replaced by a light crunching of some sort. They'd reached the grain; I'd gotten underneath just in time. But there was nothing I could do but wait, and pray.

I tried to keep my breathing at bay, the sound of my exhalations turning to thunderous winds in my ears as I tried to breathe as deeply as possible, while staying as steady as I could as to not disturb the surface of the grain.

I nearly yelped; my heart skipped a beat. I could feel pressure building around my feet, the immense weight of the sinister metallic horrors drawing closer and closer. With every shuffle, with every displacement of weight nearer to my resting place, my heart beat faster and faster. 'Resting place'... what an apt description; this pile of grain may well have ended up being my grave. That assertion only became stronger when I heard one of the robots approaching from the same port by which I had entered.

It was jump a moment before I heard it ingress, jump, and land directly on top of my chest, nearly knocking the wind out of me. The barrier of grain between us managed to cushion the blow, but the weight was too much. I could feel my ribcage bowing just as my shoulder had before, my diaphragm starting to strain fiercely. In fact, the pain had been beginning to subside in my shoulder, but all this caused it to flare up again, just as bad as when the Titan had originally grabbed it.

I ground my teeth ferociously, squeezing my eyes and mouth shut, doing everything I could to avoid crying out. In the midst of all that, I still had to control my breathing, now labored by the extreme weight on my chest. One barely audible sound, and it was all over: Dad, Lucy… the way I felt about losing them now? I couldn't subject them to that. No matter the pain, no matter the self-control I had to spontaneously gain there in that moment, there was no choice to make. Had to survive. Had to live on. Had to… had to breathe, dammit, had to shift my body mass, all my internal organs cried out. How long was this thing going to stand on top of me? _It's no use,_ I wailed mentally, _something's gonna give, I have to…_

 _...have to breathe…_

 _...everything going numb…_

 _...sight's going dim..._

 _...have to move…_

 _...right on my chest..._

 _...have to…_

 _...have..._

A scream. Not a human one, at that; some mechanical abomination of sound, metal scraping on metal in this unholy expulsion of energy. The weight on top of me was miraculously lifted as I heard the robot atop me jump once again, landing in the grain somewhere far off.

I slowly let my lips peel apart, sucking in the air slowly through my lattice of tightly gritted teeth. From afar, a string of garbled expletives erupted through audible struggle. They got him. They got Hermes.

"You stupid ass-! Get off! You're gonna break my fuckin-". Hermes let out a loud cry through gritted teeth, letting it bleed into his next word. " _Aaaaaaarm!_ Dammit, you metal motherfu-" The next sound was distinctive, the kind only metal pounding into unsuspecting flesh could create. Just like that, Hermes was out, and I listened on in my own silence as I heard them drag him, limp, across the grain.

I waited until the machines' footsteps and the sound of leather dragging on solid ground were too distant to double back in time before I burst out of my granular grave with a steep inhalation. For a few moments, I collected myself, letting my heavy breath disturb a few grains in front of me. Had to evaluate my position.

Thinking about it, Hermes was likely the only pilot left in the colony who was worth his salt. Certainly, I couldn't go after him. That said, piloting a shuttle off-world, with my lack of skill and my busted shoulder? Despite its impossibility and my own shuddering at the thought, it was a chance I'd have to take. Once my breathing calmed, I unearthed my legs and trudged across the grain, making sure to sneak a look out at the loading area where the bots had come from.

I found a bit of relief in the fact that the Titan seemed gone, and its booming footsteps would have been audible throughout the colony, even after all I'd been through. With any luck, it had left the planet on one of those carriers, or at least gone far enough away to cease being a concern. The majority of the robots were either gone or already widely dispersed; hopefully, they wouldn't bother me anymore. My next step: heading out the granary through the west egress.

As I reached the other end of the grain repository, I noticed a smattering of blood tainting and grain and the floor near it. Those robots really weren't gentle. And that could've been me… one had been right on top of me. How could I have hid so well directly beneath one, and have covered myself well enough with a busted arm, while he…?

Wait… had he _purposely_ got himself captured? And, moreover, did he do it to ensure my own passage?

There's only a single reason he would have done such a thing, I thought. He had seen my family, maybe even put them on course to get off-world, to safety. Were that the case, there's no doubt Dad had made a wise decision in choosing his replacement.

I was able to move much faster once I climbed beyond the grain, especially since I had ditched the rifle. Within a few moments, I had reached the western door, the light giving me cause to guard my eyes a moment.

I jogged out onto the platform, checking left and right to see if I was clear to run out and get a better view. I was, once again, alone.

Had to stick to the plan. I turned to my right, and headed for the edge of the valley, right where I'd hoped Lucy and Dad were waiting for me. In a way, as long as I was with _them_ , having to start all over again on a new planet wouldn't be such an ordeal. That's what family's for, I thought. Gotta stick together, or else nothing-

They were back. One of the bots emerged from around the corner of the building, jumping directly over my head and landing to my left. Before I could make a run for it, two more of them came into view, these two sprinting directly at me, automatic rifles trained on my chest. I was caught between a dead end or taking my chances back inside the granary. Somehow, I didn't think that hiding amongst the grain would work so well a second time.

There was only one play. Had to take my chances by running past the one, rather than take one the armed two. Hell, I figured I had no chance no matter my choice, but somehow still, my odds seemed better off the way I went.

I pivoted on my heel, and began my undoubtedly fruitless sprint at the monster. Had my chest not been still feeling the weight of the previous robot standing on it, I would have been letting out a might war cry. Or, come to think of it, just a pained, hopeless scream.

The war machine drew closer. I tried moving to flank it, but it kept pace with me laterally, widening its stance and drawing forward to meet me. Its segmented, cold hands were far too close together to try stopping or detaining me; this thing was preparing to maim me severely, if not worse.

The wind was in my face. A tear came to my eye. Didn't want to accept it; couldn't be weak. _Just blame it on the wind, focus on right now._

Couldn't focus on right now.

Dad.

Lucy.

...Mom.

My life flashing before my eyes, she appeared. Was that really the way she wore her hair? The way her violet perfume smelled, when she'd leave us alone for the night to go out with Dad? Her eyes, weren't they hazel- no, green? What was the name of that story she'd always read us? How could I not remember her more distinctly? What had I to gain but pain by seeing this at the moment of my demise? Maybe I'd never know; I was nearly in the arms of the artificial beast.

Maybe someday I'll see them all again.

Maybe someday.

Not today.

"Protocol three: protect the pilot."

Mirroring the appearance of the robots, the Titan - _my_ Titan - rounded the corner of the distillery. In one smooth motion, it swiped its hand along the ground in front of me. I stumbled and fell back, but the battle robot wasn't so lucky, shattering into its disparate parts that went flying away from me. The Titan shot forward with a short engine burst, and as I flipped over to watch it pass me, I saw the tongues of flame just disappear from the back of its chassis as it decimated the other two bots beneath its feet, leaving nothing but unrecognizable mangled metal in its wake. The few shots the robots had been able to let off were completely in vain, deflected off of some kind of energy shielding visible only while the bullets made contact.

The Titan stopped a moment, staring out over the expanse of the colony and the way to the shuttle ports. Slowly, it turned, but just its torso; it almost looked like it was… looking over its shoulder at me, as any human would.

Finally, it pivoted its body, every step in doing so sending shockwaves through my body. The thing was staring down at me again, giving me all-too-familiar feelings of dread as I'd felt when it looked down on Dad and me. The Titan, though, proceeded to kneel, its knee falling to the ground with an immense impact. It rested its arm on its leading knee, looking down at me like I was a child who'd just tripped while learning to walk.

"Are you alright, Pilot? Have you sought medical aid?" Its voice was different, somehow. More natural, more… human, as much as I hesitated to think. I refused to answer, completely awestruck and still trying to mentally process the spectacle I'd just witnessed. "I shall interpret your silence as the negative. Unfortunately, all trained medical personnel have vacated this AO."

"What did you… how are you…" I wasn't even to formulate a cohesive question.

"I apologize for the deception, Pilot. I am unable to reveal my genuine operational details in the presence of Militia-affiliated personnel." Although its voice was still largely monotone, there was more inflection to it than before.

My breath began to quicken, an air of unrequited rage beginning to form. "I'm… Militia… affiliated…" I managed to emit, barely able to speak before leaning back and catching myself on my good arm. The adrenalin crash was beginning to take effect, I thought; wouldn't be long before I outright passed out.

"Titan protocols shall always supercede any military affiliation." It stood up again, its joints creaking loudly. "Ready to receive orders, Pilot."

I was lost. Everything was happening so far beyond my capacity; only one thought stood out in my mind. "Are we safe? And what about my dad, my sister? Are they safe? Where are they?" I asked frantically.

"They're gone, kid." The voice came from behind me, and it didn't take long for me to surmise who it was this time, and even less time did it take for them to pass me by and stand next to the Titan. Hermes. I saw he'd procured a pistol, as well several new facial contusions. "All of 'em. They loaded 'em on the carriers, and shipped 'em off to who-knows-where."

My head was spinning, my balance so far off, I almost thought the Titan was making the ground shake again. But there it stood, steady as a rock, in front of me. Hermes holstered his weapon, and took a step forward, kneeling down in front of me. His stance was eerily similar to the way the Titan had posed in front of me before, only contributing to its humanity.

"Now, look: they're gonna circle back and pick off any stragglers. And we're not gonna be here when they do, y'understand?" Hermes tried his damnedest to look me straight in the eye, but I avoided his gaze entirely. Reluctantly, I took his hand, and he pulled me up to a standing position.

"What about my family?" I squeaked quietly, in this mousey little voice.

He took a step back, dragging his feet along the ground. "I'm all ya got right now, kid. Best we focus on makin' it outta here alive, for now." He patted me on the shoulder. "One step at a time." With that, he walked past me, heading for the path to the shuttle dock. I watched as he grew smaller before me, and felt my feet began to move, following directly in his footsteps. Behind me, I heard the pounding of the Titan's footsteps close in tow.

I quickened my pace, and caught up to Hermes in a few moments. He, too, seemed to quicken his pace, if only to try and avoid engaging me in further direct, awkward conversation. "Where are we going?"

"To my shuttle," he quickly retorted.

My eyelids drooped, just like my dad's would when he got fed up. "Yes… I'm aware. Where will we be going once we leave the planet?" I enunciated thoroughly, making it clear I meant business.

"Freeport System." He continued to face forward, barely acknowledging me. "I know a place we can lay low; stay off the grid. Used to run our business through the place; the IMC won't bother us while we figure out our next step." He didn't seem like he wanted to continue talking, ending his sentences abruptly with no room for interference. It was just as well, I supposed, as we neared his shuttle. As I'd feared, only Barker's was missing. No one else made it away in time. I felt my heart flutter, before regaining normalcy.

Hermes quickly ran around to the back of the shuttle, where it tapered into a large boxy compartment undoubtedly for mass transport of our product. Pulling back a latch hidden beneath one of the side panels, a massive garage-style door folded upward, revealing a sizeable, yet hollow and empty, cargo area. "Not the fanciest accommodations, but I wanna draw as little attention as possible."

I put my hand against the frame of the opening. "You sure it's big enough?"

"The hell ya mean 'is it big enough'? Just get in and-" He stopped, just as the Titan arrived at the edge of the dock. His eyes went wide, as his eyes darted between me and the Titan. "No!" He sounded absolutely incredulous. "You're not bringin' that thing with you!"

"Protocol three," the Titan quickly retorted.

"Point taken." Hermes turned, disgruntled, and headed for the cockpit, yelling back to me. "But ya either shut 'er down now and fire 'er up once we land, or leave 'er on the whole time. Titan initialization's been known to screw with nav charts!" His voice waned, and the Titan approached the cargo opening.

I took a step back, signalling it to get in before I did. Nearly said 'Ladies first', then shook my head sheepishly at the thought. Adrenalin crash was truly nearing. "You first," I said, barely commanding any authority. Without a word, the Titan stepped into the opening, nearly causing the ship to tip over as it ducked its head beneath the door. Once it was fully secured, crouching in one corner, I stepped in as well, and quickly turned back toward the outside.

It didn't look too different, the colony. Especially not from all the way out here. The way I saw it, it was the same place I'd lived, loved and worked for… hell, nigh on as long as I could remember, every metal-coated building sending sparkles dancing into air from the still-rising sun. It was about the most cobbled together it ever could've gotten, but, it was beautiful, in its own way. Maybe, even now, I could savor the way it looked. Despite the danger and destruction I'd witnessed, this very image from afar could embody-

"Takin' off, kid! Hang on!" shouted Hermes from somewhere up ahead, as I heard and felt the engines fire up beneath my feet. The cargo door slowly began to crane back down, the view of my home slowly fading and filling my sight with darkness. I fell to my knees, just before I felt the ship leave the ground, the only evidence of my downfall being revealed by the low blue light emanating from the Titan's sensors. As I stared down at my knees, my vision swirled, the rest of my body weakening. Even my shoulder pain began to falter.

"Pilot: your prefrontal neural activity is rapidly declining. If you require rest, you may seek refuge within the cockpit of this chassis."

Yes? No? Couldn't even get the words out. Lucy. Dad. I'm sorry. Wish this wasn't the end. I felt my eyelids drop swiftly, and my world went darker than it had already become.


	3. Chapter 3

Waves. The sound of waves; something I hadn't heard in years. The old colony didn't have many major bodies of water, and rain was even rarer a sight. We'd have to dig deep, with massive drills and machines for the life-giving springs and cool nectar of life.

Not like this place… wherever 'this place' was.

Several days before, we'd stopped at some one-off planet while traversing further toward the Core Systems, meaning to refuel and get some much-needed respite. I used the opportunity to migrate from the cargo hold to the main area of Hermes's craft, much to his chagrin. He wasn't too thrilled about it, but there wasn't much he could do to stop me. Not without causing a scene, at least, which was precisely what he wanted to avoid. Seemed to change his tune once we began to near the system he originally spoke of, considering the voyage had passed largely without incident… and without conversation, on that note.

This planet, somewhere in the Freeport system, was visually stunning to say the least. Hermes had landed the ship quite precariously on a large sand bar, in the middle of a wide, serene river walled by massive cliffs of soft, porous gray stone. Though the water flowed fast enough to lap against the sand and spray the sides of the ship, and create the sound of waves that I'd heard, its flow was rather smooth: slow, but soft, in a way. Almost looked like baby blue paint, reflecting and somehow intensifying the hue of the clear sky above.

Hermes, already having exited the craft, leaned against the hull, one hand on his hip and the other massaging his opposite shoulder. Gotta hand it to him, I thought, he did pilot us all the way here in only two full sessions, staying completely alert and attentive the entire way. As far as I was aware, anyway; he very well could have been asleep the entire time just as I was. Wouldn't have put it past him.

"You coming, or what?" Hermes shouted, craning his neck back to look through the front of the viewport at me.

"Not exactly dressed for wading," I said back to him, keeping my overall volume low.

"Exactly. So get out, stretch your legs a little."

What? "...I said 'wading'. Like 'wading in _water_ '!"

"Whatever. Stay on the sand then. Someone'll pick us up soon."

I shook my head. This was most he had even said to me the whole trip. Then again, nothing he could've said would have distracted me from my loathsome attitude, and I expect he knew any conversation he would have tried to make would have ended quickly and awkwardly. The events at our old backwater colony were all too fresh in my mind.

Leaning over the side and out the port, I looked down at the sandbar upon which we rested. It seemed dry enough, but I was sure as soon as I took a step, my foot would sink into the spongy ground and send mud cascading into my boots. So much on my mind already, soggy socks was certainly something I _didn't_ need. Always hated that mushy feeling.

"Hurry up. I can see 'em."

Sure enough, as I squinted out the ship's viewport, I spotted a wavering shadow on the horizon, distorted by the heat and spray rising off the surface of the water. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be a skiff, or some other sort of small boat.

I hopped over the the cockpit controls to land in the pilot's chair. The racket caused Hermes to quickly take a look back at me, shooting a look in my direction full of disgust or disdain. He scowled, then returned to leaning against the hull, crossing his arms and turning back toward the skiff, rapidly approaching on the horizon.

"So who exactly are these friends of yours?" I grabbed the top of the side port, pulling my torso to lean out of the ship and talk directly to Hermes.

"Friends?" Hermes turned to me again, his look of disdain returning with a hint of confusion. He scoffed and turned away, saying "I never said I had friends."

"Fine. People you _know,_ then."

"Never said that, either." Hermes pursed his lips, squinting and keeping his gaze on the small craft coming at us.

No way. What was he trying to pull over on me? "Well, then, what the hell are we doing here?!" My incredulity must have been rather obvious, if his slight shudder away from me was any indication.

"...I'm beginning to wonder that more and more." Not sure if he meant for me to hear that, but after a moment, he pushed his body away from the ship, his arms coming to his sides in a tense pose. "That's not good."

"What? What?" I felt anxiety beginning to build.

"These ain't the same guys I'm used to. Something musta happened." Hermes shook his head, taking a step forward and leaning, trying to squint and get a better look at the operators of the approaching vessel.

"I thought you said you didn't even know them!"

"It was _business_! I'd fly in, make the exchange, maybe grab a quick beer, and fly out. We didn't exactly all sit down for tea time," said Hermes, growing more aggravated. "These guys don't look as friendly as the usual guys, anyway." His tone was grave. "I've got a bad feeling."

We exchanged a short look, and watched on in silence as the skiff made its way to our meager shores. Three men rode therein. One was a sickly looking lad: strong enough for the rowing he was doing, yet pale, with numerous scars and new surface wounds adorning his bare torso. The other two were clad in typical Militia Titan Pilot outfits (the likes of which I'd seen pass through our colony on a few occasions), though they were neither contiguous nor uniform: they seemed to be pieced together from old plundered spoils, each piece of battle-worn padding sutured onto the next with makeshift bits of cord and fiber. The helmets were cracked and beaten, the glass-like visors shattered and partially revealing the angered faces of the men inside. The sickly man stayed in the boat, hunched over, while the pilots hopped out in tandem approached us side-by-side.

"Well, well," the pilot on our left chided. "What brings ya by, gents? Got anything…" Though their eyes were mostly obscured by the battered helmets, I could tell their eyes were looking Hermes's ship up and down. "... _particularly_ nice for us?"

"That depends," said Hermes. He seemed to also note the men's interest in his ship, and he pulled himself closer toward its hull protectively. "You're not the guys we usually deal with." I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. Simply by saying 'we' instead of 'I', he had potentially shifted the minds of the men before us to believe that I was no stranger to this place; that could potentially have given me a slight advantage.

The man on the right took a tentative step toward Hermes's ship, watching and gauging Hermes's reaction. Hermes, of course, tensed a bit, looking like he was readying himself to draw a weapon. The right pilot stayed put, cocking his head to the side as he spoke.

"There's been some… _recent changes in leadership_ in Smuggler's Cove." The way the right pilot spoke exposed his euphemism; I was sure we had only just missed a violent struggle. Men like this disgusted me; men like this had taken everyone I'd cared- no. Had to stay focused. Alert. No telling what these guys were liable to do.

"Wasn't aware there _was_ any leadership," stated Hermes.

"You'll be doing your business wit' us from now on. The old traders and syndicates are long gone." The left pilot seemed to smirk beneath the veil of his helmet.

Hermes stowed his hands in his pockets, moving away from the hull of his ship. He was trying to act casual, or at least somehow calm or collected. The pilots stood resolute, though, unphased by his display. "Oh really?" He took a stilted step toward them. "Then… just who do you answer to?"

"We don't answer to _no one_ no more," retorted the left pilot quickly. "We respect and honor the strength _and_ fortitude of the Pirate Queen Baranova."

Hermes's face contorted. "Never heard of 'er. Plus, I'm pretty sure 'strength' and 'fortitude' are basically the same thing-"

"You'll either submit yourselves and your ship for inspection…" The left pilot's hand quickly grasped his belt, shifting his trousers and provocatively revealing a revolver tucked into his waistband. "...or you'll have to deal wit' us." He cocked his head to indicate the right pilot.

"You really don't want to have to _deal_ ," came the low growl of the right pilot. I could have sworn I saw the sickly man wince, and hunch forward even more as he heard this.

"We're already 'dealing' with you." Hermes pointed back with his thumb towards his ship's cargo hold. "Look, we got a shipment o' Backwater Ale that's liable to go off in there. We been through here hundreds o'times. Thousands, even. If you got issues with us, maybe we should just start takin' our stock somewhere else."

I hadn't seen any ale when I was holed up back there with the Titan. He was bluffing. Normally, I wouldn't have condoned it, but we had little choice in the matter. After giving each other a sly look, the pilots adjusted their stances, though to be more aggressive or more passive, I couldn't tell.

"You know, I know that ale," said the right pilot. I caught a slight glimpse of his tongue as he licked his lips beneath the broken helmet. "Come to think of it, my throat's a little parched right now. Mind if we, uh…" He began to move purposefully toward the port to the cargo area. "... _sample the merchandise_?"

"Hey!" It was all I could do to shout, and jump out into the sand behind the pilot; no doubt, if they found the Titan, _someone's_ blood would be shed. Though I couldn't see him now, I could hear the other pilot moving forward, prepared to counter me if I tried anything. I stopped dead, and so did he. The pilot near the cargo hold stopped short of the port controls, and slowly turned to look over his shoulder at me, the anger in his eyes piercing straight through me like daggers. "It's, uh…" Had to think of something. "It's all… wrapped up. Like, on pallets and stuff. Would take too long to get into; just wait for someone to come and take it all in, and… y'know, we can all find a place to have a proper drink."

Hermes's lips were pursed tight, his eyes wide. Boy, if looks could kill: everything on his face just screamed 'shut up'!

The pilot in front of me slowly turned completely to face me. He looked me up and down: sizing me up, no doubt, or perhaps quickly evaluating whether I may have had a weapon on me.

"...ya know what? You're right." His voice was cold as ice; about as cold as it had been in the cargo hold there with the Titan. The pilot in front of me leaned to the side to shout over my shoulder at the one behind me. "Bernard? Why don't you call a full recovery squad out here?" I could hear the one behind me take something from his belt or pocket, as the pilot in front of me quickly approached, standing with his face mere centimeters away from mine. "...'cuz I think they're hidin' somethin'."

Suddenly, a cold sensation encircled one of my wrists, then the other. I turned my head to see the other pilot behind me, forcing me into some kind of shackles. Hermes acted quickly, but not quickly enough, moving forward to disarm the pilot but being swiftly knocked down and shackled as well. The pilot pulled Hermes to his feet, while Hermes spit out a bit of sand and the other pilot made for the rowboat again with hands behind his back.

"We'll see what Baranova thinks your 'ale' is worth." The left pilot… or right pilot, or… hell, couldn't really keep 'em straight at this point… climbed into the boat, while the other pilot held Hermes and me by the napes of our necks, one in each hand, corralling us in the same direction. "And, hell, maybe we'll even let you have a drink with us." Both pilots burst out laughing, this artificial squeal of a laugh that made it sound like it was their first time doing so. "Long as yer not IMC, at any rate."

The remaining pilot threw us down onto the edge of the skiff, causing the sickly man within to recoil away a bit. Hermes and I were both expected to climb into the boat of our own accord, which we of course did, both with an extreme, disdainful lethargy.

All five of us pressed into the boat, shoulder to shoulder, was a far cry from the now spacious-seeming craft of Hermes. Sitting directly across from me, Hermes kept his gaze fixed on me, his brow furrowing more and more angrily by the second.

Once we forcefully shoved off from sand bar, he gave my shin a swift kick in the commotion. I winced. Water splorted out the top of my boot. Wet socks. Damned mushy feeling.

It was a bit much, I thought, for the pilots to have to throw us into a full-on cell, complete with dank, moss-infested walls and hard sooty floor. Hermes seemed to already be quite taken with our new abode, immediately retreating to the back corner, and sitting against the wall, defeated.

I was not quite so easily shaken, though. Immediately, once the door was closed on us, I grabbed the bars and jostled them violently, shouting whatever vague, foreboding non sequitur I could think of. "You'll never get away with this! You won't keep us in here forever!"

"Would you just _shut up_ already?" Hermes finally piped up, sounding even more massively annoyed than he had back at the landing site.

I turned away from the door, letting my arms swing loosely to my sides. "Well, it's true. There's no way this is fair-"

"You should have just let _me_ handle it." He cut me off, no doubt trying to divert me from saying anything else needless. "What the hell was that supposed to be, anyway? Butting in like that." He adopted an over-exaggerated mocking voice. "'Oh, it's on the pallets, man. 'Ss the pallets. It's all covered in plastic and shit, dude. Don't just go in there and grab a beer, you gotta wait for someone to _take the pallet out…_ '" His mocking voice gave way to spouting anger. "'...bring it into town, open it up in some industrial process, distribute it to all the taverns in the area-'"

"Look, I get it. Alright? Trying to decipher the logic of a bullshit bluff I made under pressure isn't going to help us." His ire only served to amplify mine as well.

"Yeah, neither is making _more_ o' those claims in a dungeon filled with vicious pirates!" Hermes was right, but that said, I hadn't seen anyone else occupying the other cells when we'd been brought in. "And ya didn't answer me. Why'd you have to get in the way? I had it handled. We're supposed to be trying to _lay low_ , remember?"

I did a quick, obvious glance around us at the low dungeon walls. "Well, you can't lay much lower than this." Turning away from him, and back toward the cell door, I continued. "Besides… I had to do _something._ " I turned back toward him. "I'm tired of just letting things happen. My family was spirited away somewhere, I don't even know if they're alive…" I could feel a lump in my throat beginning to swell. Swallowing through it, my speech continued. "...you brought me here, sure, but I didn't do anything. I had to step up, for once, man. If they had opened the cargo hatch, they would've been face-to-face with that Titan."

Hermes stood up behind me slowly, taking a step toward me and adopting an incredulous and sarcastic tone. "Why would that be such a bad thing?!"

"Well, there's two ways it could've gone. Either it coulda still been in low-power mode from the trip, or she woulda grabbed us and flat out murdered those two guys."

"Sooo… we'd either be in the same exact position we're already in, or our captors would be dead and we'd have an active Titan protecting us in an unstable den of criminals. Again, _where's the disadvantage_?" Hermes still sounded as if he was in complete disbelief. He didn't understand that the way I acted was derived straight from how we'd come to be there in the first place.

I shook my head, looking down and bringing my hands together nervously. "...the only reason I'm even here and not still at home with my sister and my dad is because of just… complete…" I struggled to find the words, and the lump in my throat grew. "... _senseless, gruesome bloodshed_." I turned back toward him, resolute. "I'm not gonna contribute to that if I have the choice."

Hermes's mouth sat agape, as he slowly crossed his arms and fell backward to lean against the damp wall again. It was clear he didn't _like_ what I was saying, but knew there was nothing he could do to change my stance. Sighing, he shook his head, defeated again. "Look, you wanna _take_ real action? Take matters into your own hands for once?" His knees bent, and his back slid down the wall so he could sit down again. "Then maybe find some way to break us outta here," he said quietly, barely above a low whisper.

I squinted at him. He caught my gaze, and flapped his hand around him, motioning to the entirety of the cell itself. Nothing more to say, I supposed.

I turned back to the cell door, grabbing on and rattling it as before, although to a lesser effect. It was thoroughly rusted, that much was true, but undoubtedly resilient enough to withstand anything I could throw at it. Dead end.

The rest of the cell didn't fare much better; I checked every stone in the wall, every soft spot in the floor, and every slight crack in sight, and found no trace of any kind of escape route. Not that I'd be able to tell, anyway; there was no window, and the only light was coming from the dusty, flickering fluorescent tubes adorning the hallway outside. What a contrast: full electric lighting, and a completely archaic dungeon. Was surprising that bringing even a shred of technology into the midst of all this didn't completely destroy the place-

"Wait…" My thoughts escaped me under my breath. "Maybe… just maybe…"

Hermes leaned forward. "Got somethin'?"

I folded my arms, then reached a hand up to my chin ponderously. "What do you know about Titans? The whole 'neural link' thing?"

Hermes frowned. "What does have to-" He stopped suddenly. Didn't take him long to catch on. "No. Bad idea."

"It's the only thing I can figure that has a sure chance of getting us out of here quick enough to be worth a damn."

"You don't even have a gen chip!" Hermes tried to emphasize his words, as if they were supposed to mean something to me.

"What does that even mean?"

Hermes sighed. "A gen chip. The thing they stick in pilots' heads to track their progress and shit? That's also what gives 'em the ability to control their Titan from the outside." He shrugged. "I dunno much about the whole 'neural link' thing, but you sure as hell don't have one. I know that much."

Come to think of it, he wasn't wrong. My plan had been to simply will the Titan to come and get us out, but this would be the first time I'd tried anything of the sort.

Or was it…? Perhaps it was something more primal. Had it been my resolve, my very will to survive, that had made the Titan able to find me back at the colony, when those robots were all over me? Was _that_ what had hailed it? Granted, the colony wasn't all that large, but she'd sure picked a hell of an opportune moment to show up.

Slowly, the pieces started to fall into place. I remembered now: she wasn't able to establish a full neural link, but she'd done _some_ kind of brain scan. That, and given how she'd been able to show up at _just_ the right moment-

"Hey!" Hermes must have caught wind of the wheels turning in my mind. "Mind letting me in on what's going on in that brain o' yours?"

I nodded, dropping my hands to my sides, causing a slight twinge of pain to emanate from my shoulder. Maybe the injury wasn't as bad as I'd originally thought: it had healed well enough in the time since we'd left home. That said…

"Hit me. In the shoulder." I turned and looked down at Hermes's curled form, a stern look on my face.

He slowly stood to look me in the eye. "What?"

"Just do it. Me being in pain or in danger might serve to call the Titan."

He scoffed and looked away, crossing his arms again. "You can't be serious with this…"

"Just do it! We don't have much time!" My nostrils flared as I stared him down. Hopefully, he could tell I meant business.

He sighed, and uncrossed his arms. "Alright. Which shoulder, and how ha-" Suddenly, he struck out with a right cross, coming over and striking my shoulder hard and fast. I could feel the cartilage and bones shifting again, as my hand whipped up to grasp against the pain.

My mouth hung open for a moment as I began to recoil away. "Ow!" I slowly stood up to full height again, still favoring my uninjured side. " _Asshole_!"

"You deserved that one." He stepped back, shaking his hand as if to wick the pain of the punch away. Maybe he was right; I did deserve it. But if that was true, then he deserved at least five for bringing us to this planet in the first place. "Stuck in a... friggin' medieval dungeon 'cause o' you…" He moved to my injured side. Hermes meant to flank me, and continue the fight. "Makin' me do all this crap to hide you an' that Titan… now you want it to rip straight through Smuggler's Cove to save us…" True. Hell, maybe I deserved another punch for thinking starting a fight with him was good idea. He raised fists into a fighting stance, guarding his face.

I spun to keep him head on. "Yeah, like hell!" I bounced between my feet, also raising my fists to my face. "If they'd seen that Titan in your cargo bay, they would've killed you on the spot!" It was all I could do to throw a hook out from my good side, but Hermes anticipated it, dodging it adeptly.

"Never woulda _had_ a Titan back there…" he strained, moving forward and putting all his weight behind another cross. I pulled to side, trying to dodge the blow, but it skimmed against my now pain-filled arm. If anything, I took comfort that the sensation now pulsating through it wasn't quite as bad as it could've been. "...if it wasn't for you! Should never have brought you with me."

That may have hurt more than his first punch did. I didn't have any particular attachment to Hermes, but at that point, I still thought he had a shred of decency. It faded once he'd said that. He'd crossed the line. In my rage, I suddenly lunged toward him, knocking him to the ground and falling down onto him. Soot and sand kicked up into my eyes, but I persevered, holding his wriggling form down.

It didn't last long, though. He managed to drive an uppercut straight into my armpit, of all places, on my bad side. Even more searing pain went through my shoulder, but it soon passed; in fact, I think he knocked back into place whatever he had jostled with the first punch. Still, it sent me rolling off of him, switching our positions so that he was on top of me, his hands pushing my shoulders against the ground. Both of us simply stared at each other, panting and reeling.

"...hit me, then," I whispered, looking up at him.

He lifted his hand from my bad shoulder, wiping some saliva or perspiration from his chin. "...think that's enough for now."

"Wha'ss goin' on in 'ere?" The voice came from outside, somewhere beyond the cell. Whoever it belonged to must have been just meters away. Luckily, judging by the cockney accent, it wasn't one of the two that originally picked us up.

Hurriedly, Hermes rolled off of me, crouched and tried to help to my feet… not hurriedly enough, though. Just as we regained our bearing, the source of the voice rounded the corner. Another sickly man, scarred and half naked, though not the same one from the boat. The 'dungeon keeper', I presumed. Just as we stood to face him, I caught a disgusted look on his face. He was taken aback.

"What ya think ya doin'?" He asked us this, although his face betrayed him: he had it twisted in his mind. The guard gave his head a thorough shake, as if trying to dislodge the thought physically. "Er… Baranova desires to see you." From his belt, he produced a large ring of massive keys, worn and rusted to match the cell door. "Now." Forcing it into the lock and strenuously turning it to the side, he flung the door open and stepped in, leaving the way completely unguarded behind him. "Up against the wall," he stated, routinely but with some fervor.

Hermes and I both slowly turned our heads toward each other. We didn't have to say anything: we were both thinking the same thing. My good arm tightened, preparing to lash out and strike at the guard. By the way Hermes's breath quickened and sucked in hard, I could tell he was rearing to do the same.

 _Chooom._ From somewhere behind us, outside the dungeon walls, a blast that shook the very ground upon which we stood emanated. Dust and debris fell from the decrepit dungeon ceiling. The guard immediately widened his stance, the sound of the keys on his hip jingling violently. Hermes and I, still looking into each other's eyes, watched as both of our expressions went crestfallen. We both turned and looked over our shoulders, somehow expecting to see something behind us other than the dank dungeon wall.

"...what was that?" Thus came the whisper of the guard, who was looking side to side frantically.

Silence. Even our breathing seemed muffled beneath the deafening calm. For a few moments, we all stood there, communally waiting on whatever followup was to give credence to the earth-shaking uproar.

Was it my Titan? Had she gotten out of the cargo bay, and made her way in? She hadn't any weapons, so was someone firing on her? Moments passed, and still, we waited. Would my Titan burst in through the wall? Would she tear the very roof from this horrid place, bringing us-

"Musta been nothing," said the guard, righting his stance and relaxing his arms. Slowly, I brought my head back around to face him, noticing his hand reaching behind his back and the jangling of our old shackles ringing in my ears. "Guess even the cannon men are on edge an' all, since Baranova took ov-"

It was the only opportunity. I lunged forward, fist extended, straight toward the guard's jaw. Only managed to knock his chin to one side slightly, but it was disorienting enough for him that he didn't notice my swift knee to his groin. Behind me, I listened for Hermes springing into action. He, too, leapt forward, and while the guard doubled over clutching at his crotch, Hermes swung his foot straight upward, connecting with the guard's nose and sending him flying back in a crumpled form.

"Jesus," I shouted instinctively at his display. "That really necessary?" Through a beat of otherwise dead air, I could hear the guard still breathing. Good. "That could've killed him!"

Hermes, once again giving me a 'tired of your shit' look, raised his hands. "We're breaking out of a prison! Whaddya want me to do, bitch-slap 'im?" He kneeled down next to the guard, retrieving the ring of keys and some kind of metal-tipped baton from the guard's belt. "...'sides, only reason we have to break out ourselves is 'cause your whole Titan plan didn't exactly pan out. Just like I thought."

"Look, it's certainly bad luck that the Titan isn't coming, but it's good enough that this guy-" I motioned to the guard, still unconscious on the stones. "-was enough of an idiot to let his guard down when that blast sounded!" I made my way to the door and began to scan the hallways, left and right, for… well, anything, friendly or otherwise. As I suspected by the relative silence we'd been hearing our entire time locked up, there was no sign of anything. I turned back to Hermes, who was busy dragging the guard into an out-of-sight corner.

Hermes struggled as he dragged the man. "Got nothin' to do with luck." He let go, and the guard slumped against the wall with an unceremonious _thud_. I began to think Hermes was going to blame me again, and state that we wouldn't be in this situation had I not spoken up, and reiterate that we wouldn't _need_ to break out if my Titan had made her way over. But, it seemed he knew as well as I did that furthering that talk wouldn't have served any purpose in our present predicament. "What was that blast, anyway? I can only figure-"

Right on cue, another blast. The ground shook, the gate to the cell reverberated, and Hermes stumbled as he approached behind me.

"-AA cannons, I think. Or rather, just a single one… not firin' at any kinda incoming fleet, or we woulda heard more of 'em by now," continued Hermes. "Either just one ship is doggin' this place… or they're firing at something planetside."

I knew all too well what he was implying. If they'd actually sent a team out to the ship… that Titan would have no choice but to defend itself. And if they were firing on her… more than once, at that… there'd likely be nothing left but scrap metal, by now. For a moment, my mind immediately shouted 'good riddance'... but I still held out some hope. She could've survived… or, still be functional, as it were, and we may just have had need for her.

I glanced back at the motionless guard. "Or these idiots could just be fuckin' around on the cannons." I gave Hermes a look, a smug glimmer of hope in my eye.

He nodded. "Let's hope. Would be a damn shame to have to give up our only ace in the hole." He pushed past me, and began running down the hallway through which we'd been brought in. I followed close behind him.

It took a few minutes to navigate the labyrinthine dungeon halls, especially since we were both so on edge about being caught. Eventually, though, we surfaced between two large collections of tanks… some kind of water processing plant, by the looks of it, fenced in and housed under a massive metal canopy. It wasn't where we'd first been brought underground, and under the canopy, it was impossible to discern our true location relative to our ship. We'd have to expose ourselves, straight out into the open amongst the cannonfire, not to mention whatever action had stirred it up in the first place.

Hermes quickly ran forward and crouched, clinging to the edge of a nearby fence. He cocked his head, motioning for me to follow. I fell in behind him, making sure to crouch below the fence line, just as he was.

Creeping forward, we managed to get to edge of the canopy without issue. Not that grand an accomplishment, considering what we saw there.

"Shit," whispered Hermes, peeking around the corner. He pulled his head back in, and shook it sheepishly.

"D'you see the Titan?" I asked him.

Again, he shook his head. "Didn't see anyone… but I can tell, we're on the complete opposite side of Smuggler's Cove. We'll have to run the full distance to the ship. Let's just hope they don't get even more cocky with those cannons, and try to off us in the middle o' the street."

"What happens if we get there, and they've taken my Titan away somewhere? We can't leave without it."

Hermes gave me a skeptical snicker. "Like I said, it'd be a _damn shame_ … but I'm not gonna throw my life away for a robot while I got the chance to get out." He looked back at me, widening his eyes. "While _we_ got the chance."

I thought to protest, but Hermes's mind was already elsewhere. He was spying a building across the way, or rather, a low wall that protruded from the side of it. Perfect cover, if we could get across the width of the street between us and it. Seemed easy enough from where we were, but the emptiness of the street, the cannon blasts… it all put me on edge. Perhaps unnecessarily.

Hermes began shakily pointing, twisting his wrist up and down to emphasize his direction. "Y'see that wall over there? I'm gonna make a break for it. I'll see if it's clear, and then wave ya over. Got it?"

Simple enough. A fleeting thought flew through my mind: I saw Hermes making his way around the wall, crouching, turning back toward me. A smirk crossed his face, his eyes narrowing. He turned away, and disappeared into a wisp of shadow. From behind me, more of the jackal robots - named Spectres, so I'd learned from Hermes on the flight over, and had remembered from the colony - approached, weapons drawn, their eyes glowing brighter and brighter as they approached, their malice overtaking my vision-

"I said, are you ready?" Hermes was doing his best to sound like he was yelling while staying at a whisper. I snapped back to reality, my vision refocusing on him. Genuine concern inhabited his eyes, but it was fleeting; he turned back to the opening. "Alright…" He stood and began to run, uttering "I'm goin'," under his breath as he took off across the way.

It never struck me to ask, or to even think about, how old Hermes was. He didn't seem young or spry by any stretch, but he was definitely younger than my father. The only reason I thought of this is then because, at whatever age he was, I don't think there was a person on the entire damn Frontier who could've run that fast under normal circumstances.

It was just as I'd foreseen: he crouched, looking side to side. An aura of confidence came about him. He smirked.

But, this time, shattering my illusions, he nodded at me from across the way, beckoning me to come once he'd checked his surroundings.

I peeked around the corner myself, ensuring there was, truly, no threat in sight. Sure enough, not a soul wandering the streets. Wasn't this supposed to be a bustling bazaar? Had the change in 'leadership' really completely wiped this place of _all_ commerce, even local? We'd seen a _few_ people when those pilots were ferrying us in; not a lot, but definitely not so few that they'd all seem to be completely absent now.

No time to ponder now. I saw the urgency in Hermes's eyes, even from all the way across the street. I primed my legs to make the run, then-

It was a whisper. Not of a voice, but of some sound I couldn't discern. Indescribable. My instinct was that, truly, the Spectres _were_ behind me, but this noise was far too subtle for them. It sounded… like a pop? Followed by some kind of spray, kind of like an aerosol can.

I whipped back, quickly scanning left and right for the source. Nothing… better than Spectres, I supposed, but… something about it was too unnatural.

Back across the street, Hermes was pursing his lips, eyes wide, while continuing to wave me over with urgency. Taking one more nervous look to each side, I bounded over, my footsteps slamming into the pavement and reverberating through the intersection. After what seemed only a few massive steps, I was kneeling next to Hermes.

"Could you have been any louder?" Hermes whispered to me sarcastically.

I threw him a skeptical glance, though still keeping my eyes scanning the intersection through which I'd just run. "Yes, I could have." I shook my head. "There was something back there."

"Back where?"

"By- by where I just was!"

"Did they see you?"

"What? No, it wasn't-" I found myself sighing, realizing that putting such a miniscule thing into words must have sounded completely stupid to him. "I didn't _see_ anyone, and no one saw me. I just… heard a noise," I said reluctantly.

"A noise? What- whaddya mean? Are we being followed?"

"It was just… like a _pop_ , and a _sweep_." I shrugged, sighing again. The vague manner by which I could describe it wasn't helping. "Look, it sounds dumb, but was unnatural. Something's up. Haven't you noticed there's no one around?"

Hermes shook his head. "I call it lucky. And look... the noise was probably just those water tankards we passed." 'Tankards'. Of course he'd misnomer them _that_ way. "Maybe a valve or something. Let's just focus on getting out of here."

Couldn't deny it; he was right. It was time to get out, one way or another, even if we really were being followed.

"Follow me," Hermes whispered, crouch-walking parallel to the wall of the building. He only stopped a couple of times, as we passed by open ports and windows. Finally, we reached the end of the row of buildings, completely unmolested.

Hermes stopped, once again checking the corner. Ahead was a shipping and receiving area we'd spotted on our way in. At least we recognized _something_ ; these streets weren't exactly welcoming in the way they were laid out.

"Alright," he whispered. "I need you to move up, and cling to that rock face." He motioned to a wall of stone on our left, extending along the side of the shipping area and wrapping around into the river. "Once got a drunk pirate to show me this hidden passage in the wall. Gives anyone transporting contraband a quick way out of the settlement in case the IMC shows up."

I scoffed. Quietly, of course. "Aren't you just a _little_ better qualified to open this passage than I am?" Checking our surroundings, I added, "Also, speaking of the IMC… are we sure whatever they were firing those cannons off at is gone?"

"Well, they haven't fired 'em off since we've been topside. Whatever it was, they prob'ly scared it off." Hermes turned his neck back to me, speaking to me over his shoulder. "And it's not a passage you'll need to open; it's just a big hole in the wall, covered with a fake layer of moss and plants and shit. Just stick to the wall, and you'll know it when you find it." He looked back forward, also trying to assess our surroundings again. "Plus… the reason I'm sending you is 'cause we'll be in earshot… or, auditory… sensor… shot… whatever - what I mean is, if ya holler, your Titan's bound to hear ya at this distance." He turned back to me again to add, "...if it's still at the ship, that is."

"Here's to hoping," I said quietly. Again, I had no real attachment to the thing, but as a defender? Or maybe even a bargaining chip in a tight spot? Like Hermes had said, if it was gone… damn shame.

"Alright, move up. Go on my signal."

Pushing past him, I took my position poking out from aside the corner of the building. In the few seconds before Hermes called for me to go, I could feel my heart racing, the friction of my breath screaming in my ears. A sudden urge to just… _get out_ washed over me. This was the first step. Had to go.

"Whaddya doin'?" Hermes leaned forward next to me, trying to look me in the eye as I stared forward, determined. An incredulous look was on his face.

"What?"

He lifted his first two fingers, and waved his hand forward and back repeatedly. "I- I did this! That's the signal!"

I squinted at him. "My head wasn't even pointed that way, wh- why didn't you just say 'go' or-"

"Fine, fine, just go! Now!" With a swift push forward, Hermes evacuated me from our cover, as he retreated back behind the building. Using that momentum, I began to run, my left hand sweeping along the rock wall as I moved.

Only a few steps had I taken, when I heard it again. That same sound I'd heard a minute ago, back at the water treatment area. I stopped dead in my tracks, frantically turning and checking every direction for the threat.

"What are you doing?!" Hermes screeched over, trying to yell with a whisper's timbre.

"I heard it again!" I responded, in the same fashion.

He shook his head incredulously. "It was just the leaves or somethin', man! Get moving!" He shooed me away with his hand dismissively.

I pursed my lips at him, before making one more quick look around, then turning and continuing to run forward, still skimming my hand along the rock wall.

Once again, only a few steps more was it before I found what I was looking for. A slight divot in the wall, that quickly sloped into a smooth curve that caved into the wall. The opening, exactly as Hermes had said. Had you not known it was there, you'd never have looked twice at the spot, but having seen and felt the opening, it was unmistakable now, even below the thick foliage. Frankly, being so cognizant of it now, I was surprised we hadn't noticed it on the way in.

I hurriedly pushed aside some of the vines and branches, creating a space large enough to slip through, but small enough to re-conceal later. Who could know? Maybe some other poor souls would be in the same situation as us, someday.

Speaking of 'us', I thought. I turned back and ran to the corner, just past where the rock face took you out of sight. Hermes's face was still hopefully peering over from cover. I waved him over, and he quickly broke cover and roadie-ran over next to me. Didn't even check both ways before leaving cover. Figures.

"I take it you found it," said Hermes anxiously.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Next thing I knew, we'd both crawled into the tunnel, being sure to re-disguise the entrance upon getting inside.

The tunnel had obviously been carved by some machinery, but given the overgrowth and bugs therein, it obviously hadn't been used in years. I mentioned it to Hermes.

"For emergencies, basically," he said, trudging along. "Or whatever they define as 'emergencies' in a place where everyone wants to kill each other."

The walls tapered outward as we continued, and got rougher. My guess was that they had fashioned this passage out of an existing cave or crevasse that simply didn't go all the way through. How many other tunnels were there like this, on the whole planet? Were there any more beneath Smuggler's Cove? Speaking of Smuggler's Cove, how were they going to deal with-

Dammit. It wasn't working. I was consciously trying to think of _anything_ to keep my mind off our present situation, but my thoughts always ran anxiously back to the Titan. It wasn't even just a matter of whether we had our 'ace in the hole' or if she'd hurt anyone; it was more just the fact that she could've gotten taken away. Even if she was just a big hunk of metal, I wasn't sure if I could deal with that. Not again. No matter who it was.

"Up ahead," said Hermes, pointing to the shimmer of the water refracting off the walls of the tunnel ahead of us. "Let's move. Double time."

As best we could, we wade-jogged through the low water and rounded the corner out of the tunnel. Sure enough, a ways off, we saw it: Hermes's ship.

"There she is... " He shrugged. "Doesn't look any worse for wear. Let's get off this rock."

 _Shwiff-pop._ The sound again. It had followed us, reverberated off the walls of the tunnel. Hermes, this time, whipped around as quickly as I did. Managed to catch a look of bewilderment and fear under his usual gruff veneer. _He's a believer now_ , I thought.

"...run. Get to the ship," he said, under his breath. His normal timbre was gone; he was genuinely concerned.

"That's what I was telling you about-"

"Go!"

Didn't have to tell me twice. Or, I suppose he did. I ran forward, and felt his hand touch my shoulder, pushing me past him as he stood in bewilderment.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!" He was yelling frantically, like he was almost comically trying to brush the issue aside. "Just get to the ship, fire it up, and let's _go_!" Yep, something was definitely wrong.

Finally, I reached our little sandbar once again. Hmph. Right back where we started, and we had done nothing but draw more attention to ourselves. Hermes had been right. If those two pirates, or guards, or _whatever_ they were supposed to be hadn't captured us… if I had just kept my mouth shut…

Wait… the footprints. The ones from the pirates, and from us. I could still see them. Our initial jump out of the ship, the ragged lines from where they'd forcibly been pushing us to their skiff, the very indentation left by their craft - it was smoothed over, the wounds healed by the river washing over them, but still fully visible. And that was it - no one else had been there, or we'd be able to tell. So, my Titan was still in there, right? Damn, I had to check!

"Whaddya doin', kid?" Hermes was speaking with a desperate tone. "Get in! Now!" His voice was cracking - not a good sign. Whatever he recognized that sound to be, it was scaring him shitless. Maybe even literally; he certainly hadn't 'gone' during all those hours in the cell.

But a moment later, Hermes rounded the corner from behind the ship's thrusters. "Move! _Move!_ "

Hurriedly, I yanked the side port open, waving him in. "Go on! I'm gonna check on the Titan!"

"No time! We gotta-"

And there it was again. The same sound, but louder. Heavier. With something... _more_ behind it this time. We didn't even need to turn around, and we knew.

We weren't alone.


	4. Chapter 4

_Shhhunk. Shhhunk. Shhunk._

This sound was rhythmic, though not rhythmic enough to be automated. It wasn't a 'something' that was behind us, that much was clear. Slowly, Hermes and I turned our heads toward each other. We both had the same look on our faces: the kind of look Lucy used to give me back home when I found her sneaking food off my plate when I wasn't looking. We were _caught_.

"I'll admit…" The voice startled me. Female, yes, but more grizzled and pissed off than any woman I'd ever encountered. Not only that, a distinctive robotic warble underlay its bellow. Only one way you could get that kind of tone, that kind of volume. "...no one's ever managed to escape from those dungeons, long as I've been in charge."

My and Hermes's faces both grew more grim as we simultaneously pivoted to get our first look at our pursuer.

My heart immediately sank as I watched this monstrous Titan finish its row of clapping at our 'achievement'. This thing wasn't like any Titan I'd ever seen. All the ones for civilian use were like the hulking Atlas Titan that (hopefully) presently inhabited our ship's cargo hold. None of them were as lithe and lightweight as the one in front of us. And certainly, I'd never heard of a Titan seeming so primeval, to the point of being abstract in its construction, especially with its triple-joined legs… and certainly, that sentiment wasn't helped by the massive row of shark's teeth painted below the central glowing view port. And, most of all, I'd never heard of a Titan carrying a sword on its back, let alone one that was almost comically massive.

"Not that that's much of a feat, given the outright dunces under _my_ command," continued the pilot of the Titan. "Suppose I'll have to have a chat with them later-" She turned away, glancing back in the direction from where we'd come. "You didn't kill them, did you?" Her tone was completely nonchalant.

Like hell if we were going to respond. Even if we could have found the words to say, we knew they likely wouldn't have done us any good.

The Titan threw up its hands to its sides, palms up. Didn't have shoulders, so I suppose that was the only way it could 'shrug'. "The silent type, huh? Fine by me. I'll find out soon enough." It took a step forward. "Not that your punishment would be any worse. There's only one way to deal with _spies_." She put a serious _stink_ on the last word, there. Bringing its foot forward, the Titan widened its stance, and quickly drew the sword from its back. Around the blade, an electrical arc slithered, crackling loudly across the river valley. She held the sword in front of her, straight vertical, cleaving the view of the Titan faceplate in two.

"Spies?!" I interjected. Quickly, Hermes hit me a sideways glance, shooting daggers. Right. Mouth shut.

Hermes stepped forward slightly as well. "Uh… _spies_?". Wow. Pristine word choice, there.

The Titan flicked its wrist, swinging the point of the sword toward us in a swift riposte. It ended up less than a foot from the tip of Hermes's nose, causing him to go wide- and cross-eyed, as he faltered backward.

"We've got cameras all around the Cove. Facial scanners. And when they ping someone from an official IMC database, I tend to take notice." The Titan drew the sword backward, giving it a spin, and letting it hang at her side. "So…" She became more smug. "All _I_ need to know is how large of a force we should be expecting. I know damn well the IMC have got a fleet _somewhere_ in this system, just waiting for you to say the word before they all swoop down on us."

Hermes nodded, trying to gain some self-assurance. "...ah. Baranova, the 'Pirate Queen', I presume?"

"The very same. As if you didn't already know." She didn't even move remotely as she retorted, her form frozen in place.

"Well… look. We're not _with_ the IMC," shouted Hermes, nearly cutting her off (though, I'm sure, he knew damn well we'd both be dead if he disrespected her as such). "In fact, that's who we're running _from_."

"Iiiii'm not hearing an answerrrrr!" She was almost singing now. She was getting some real joy out of watching us squirm. Me especially, I'm sure, as I slowly edged my way toward the wall of our ship to regain my balance, my face going mildly green. She swung the sword up to a readied position. "Just let me know how many AA cannons I need manned, and I might even turn down the voltage on my sword as I cleave your heads off."

"We're from Barker's colony! You know, the one he set up to run booze after Demeter? We've done plenty of business through here before, just hear-"

"Barker got blown to smithereens _on_ Demeter. Everyone knows that." Her quick retort was completely genuine. I suppose Barker wouldn't have ever tried to quell such a rumor; it would have only benefited him, really. "Good thing, too, _for him_ ; he still owed me over thirty thousand credits."

Hermes quickly pleaded with her. "Look, we'll show you our flight logs! I've only been to two planets in the last six months, one of them being this one-"

"Final chance." The Titan lurched forward, smoothly, scraping up sand with its feet and flicking it onto us. I wiped it away from my mouth with one hand, my other balancing my weak form against the cargo door of the ship. I'd managed to make it over without alerting her. Good. Hopefully, I could pull _something_ off, here. This really _was_ our 'final chance': I had one shot to make any kind of move. No more sitting idly by.

"Fine!" I shouted at her, still trying to look rattled and requiring the ship for balance. A weighty silence followed. Hermes once again looked over his shoulder at me, pursing his lips and giving me an extreme intensity behind his eyes. But I couldn't shut up this time. "Look… the truth is… that..." I paused, trying to think of the words I had to use. How could I make my point clear, and especially make sure Hermes had time to react?

A moment. "Yeah, go on," the Titan shouted, her vocal pitch rising impatiently.

Slowly, I straightened my back, getting ready for the inevitable physical trauma I was about to experience. Pulling my hand away from the ship, I readied a balled fist. "...I… AM IN IMMEDIATE… PHYSICAL… DANGER!" Well... that would have to do.

I slammed my fist against the cargo door release. It quickly shot up, and it was less than half a second before my Titan had me in her hand, sliding out into the open. In front of me, her other hand was extended, a swirling blue aura emanating from it, disturbing and suspending the surrounding mud. But a second more, and she had placed me inside her cockpit, initializing the systems and once again revealing the world around me.

Baranova was even faster, though. Already, she had rocketed backward, sliding beyond the sandbar and into the depth of the river (though, it barely came up to the Titan's 'ankles'). My Titan dropped its hand-shield, and stood to full height directly outside the cargo bay. It seemed my loud declaration had also worked, to some extent, on Hermes: he was already cowering near the front of the ship.

From the river, I heard a warbling growl from Baranova. "Well, well… an IMC Atlas Titan." She brought forth the sword, spinning it around in front of her in a figure eight, its electricity crackling and leaving a light ozone ghost in the air. She pulled it up above her head, pointing it toward . "Another one to add to our collection…"

In the momentary silence, my Titan's voice rang throughout the cockpit. "Welcome back, Pilot. Transferring controls."

I quickly retorted, keeping my eye on Baranova. "Yeah, yeah, just help me fight this thing!"

"Our last control session ended unexpectedly. Would you like to begin a sequence of tutorials detailing the various control patterns-"

"What the- no! No! Just have to hold this bitch off!" I almost immediately regretted using the word. I had a fleeting thought of her responding about not seeing a female dog in the vicinity, or some other bullshit. Luckily, she glossed over that bit.

"Understood, Pilot. Beginning assistive combat mode." A few of the lights around me dimmed, and turned a pale blue. Still, the amount of controls glowing around me was daunting, how was I-

What the hell? Where did Baranova go? I had looked away only for a moment at the blue lights, she couldn't have-

 _WHAM!_ From behind, a huge force pushed me forward, and I could feel as some of the armor on the back of the Titan crushed inward. The entire body of the Titan was shaken off balance, as I fell to my hands and knees.

"Pilot - heavy damage sustained."

My voice strained. "Yeah, I noticed… but from where?"

And, right on cue, there it was. The sound. The one that had been plaguing us during our escape. Just out of my peripheral, I saw Baranova's Titan suddenly appear out of thin air, with a faded black outline behind her just disappearing. What the hell was this? Just as quickly as she had appeared, she disappeared again to the same sound, leaving behind an aura of the same swirling, warping black and white.

Great. Teleportation. If Hermes had realized that was what the sound meant, no wonder he was in such a hurry to get away.

So, a murderous pirate queen in a slick new teleporting Titan with a massive electric sword, versus a kid with a bum shoulder who had had a total of about sixteen seconds of time in a Titan in his whole life?

Well, _someone_ was going to have to fight _dirty_.

I pushed forward with my Titan arms, quickly shifting back to my feet. I spun side to side, slowly becoming accustomed to having to clench my right hand across the controls and pivot an entire upper chassis to look around. Dammit, she was nowhere in sight, how was I supposed to-

She appeared, straight to my right. I couldn't react in time. Her sword trailing behind her, Baranova swung it upward, dragging it along the ground in my direction and sending a wave of arcing electricity in a sinister trail straight for me.

Suddenly, my Titan crouched, outstretching its hand and bringing up that swirling shield from before, holding it to the ground. Just in time, too, as the electrical wave was just about to hit us, it was suddenly absorbed into the shield, the electricity twisting around the hand and disappearing into the center unceremoniously.

"Shit… did you do that?" I asked the Titan.

"Affirmative. Assistive combat mode is enabled."

Damn. Maybe we could actually do this.

Upon seeing our defense, Baranova disappeared once again, and I heard her reappear almost immediately behind me. I squeezed down on the pivot controls, the Titan spinning on its heel to face Baranova, digging us into the sand slightly.

Baranova dashed forward, swinging her sword and producing two more electrical waves on each side of me. Only thing I could do was mash the heel of my palm into the movement control, causing me to leap backward and only just avoid the end of her blade as she brought it into the air.

We were both in the thick of the river now, the water running just around our ankles. Baranova spun her sword again, then crossed it over her body horizontally. She brought up her other hand, and drew it across the blade's length, dislodging bits of sand and clay. Wait… could the blade be short-circuited somehow? It was as noteworthy a tactic as any other, really.

I pushed forward abruptly on the movement control, while priming my Titan's arm back into a bated punch. My fist shot straight toward Baranova's faceplate, a direct hit!

But she was gone. Just as my fist would have connected, she managed to disappear again, with the same sound as before once again repeating behind me. How was I supposed to even get a hit in edgewise?

"Gotta admit," yelled Baranova. Once again, I had to whip around to see her. I was getting better at controlling this thing, though. "You're faster than I expected." She flicked her wrist, and the sword began to pulsate with an excess of electrical arcs. "But not fast enough." From somewhere between the main cockpit and the waist area of her Titan, a noise, like a ship engine spinning up, emanated, along with a strong yellowish-white light. But a moment later, there was a blinding flash of light, and once again, Baranova was nowhere to be seen.

 _Shwiff-pop_. Behind me again, damn. I turned, and there she was, sprinting at me, sword raised, still glowing with that same yellowish light. Then, she was gone again. _Shwiff-pop_. To my left again, the same way. _Shwiff-pop_. Gone. Then to my right. Gone. Somewhere behind my left shoulder, then gone. She would appear for less than a second, sword raised, coming straight at me, then disappear, and reappear somewhere else in the same fashion.

So fast was I turning that I began to get dizzy. Her pace was quickening. She'd be there barely long enough for my eyes to register, then disappear and reappear somewhere else. Left, right, behind me, she was everywhere. It was beginning to seem that she was in multiple places at once, practically forming a circular wall of her near infinite forms around me.

And the circle began to zero in, her Titan coming ever closer and closer in every direction. All I could do was continue to turn, spinning and whizzing around to try and tackle her head on… but there was no way. There _was_ no 'head-on', she was everywhere, and I wasn't going to be able to turn fast enough.

"Where's the arm controls?" I shouted.

"The Titan arm interfaces are located on the outer sides of the movement and pivot controls."

I moved my hands to the outer controls, assuming direct influence over the Titan's arms. Dammit, these controls were completely different than the movement ones. The movement was just a circle where you'd press the direction and intensity you wanted, and the turning and punch functions were just a set of buttons. These were some kind of large pads, that would rock back and forth as I moved my arms in the same way the Titan's would respond. I got the hang of it after a few moments, but even that proved to be too long a learning curve.

"Pilot - we are sustaining damage."

"What?!"

 _Shhing!_ The sword grazed across my Titan's outstretched right arm, before dissolving back into the ever-shifting wall around us that was Baranova's Titan. It was subtle, but I could feel a slight change in the weight of the arm. She'd outright manage to dissolve some component of my armor. That sword, that speed! I was planning on trying to move my arm into the veritable wall she'd created, maybe try to disrupt her movement somehow, but if I hit that sword inadvertently? I could say goodbye to my entire arm. Or the Titan's arm, anyway.

 _Whap!_

'Whap'?

The sound was accompanied by a huge lurch to the side throughout the whole Titan, and we stumbled to the side, very nearly falling into other side of the Titan wall. She'd flat out _slapped_ me with the side of the blade to move me closer to her! And, sure enough, another _shing_ accompanied a piece of the opposite elbow's armor getting sheared off before we managed to amble back the center of the ring.

Even there, in the center, I began to feel a few small nicks slicing into the main chassis of my Titan. If she kept this up, we'd be torn to shreds in seconds once we collided with the edge of the ring!

All the slices… they were coming in mostly at eye level now. If it got any more intense, it'd break through the view screen and slice my real body to bits. Slowly, I lifted the Titan's arms up, feeling the resistance as they were marred by a thousand cuts. I lifted them to cover my face, cowering. I felt the Titan's knees begin to falter.

Then, in an instant - it stopped. I let the Titan's arms down, revealing Baranova directly in front of me, dashing forward, sword lifted into the air! She bellowed, and roared at me through the Titan's communicator, the cacophony rattling the entire Titan chassis. She had the hilt of her sword clenched firmly in both hands, ready to bring it straight down onto me!

And swing it down she did, the electricity's crackle and pop even more intense than ever. I swung my arm up, and extended my fingers in its path. The blade came down straight into my Titan's palm, slicing through the armor and machinery in a flurry of sparks. Now her sword was lodged in my wrist, and her pressure downward continued; she meant to slice my arm straight through the middle.

I held against the pressure as best I could; my knees faltered, and I fell to a kneel, my arm already quivering and ready to break under the pressure. Still, she pushed and pushed downward, and my arm began to waver more fervently, the armor buckling and crumpling under the pressure. The pain even travelled into my bad shoulder, as if the arm was my own.

I… couldn't hold it any longer. Watching in horror, I saw even more sparks fly from the mangled joint, as Baranova's sword's electrical output seemed to intensify.

Wait… could I still try to short circuit the sword? There was really no other option, anyway; the sword was lodged in the Titan's hand, only Baranova herself would be able to tear that veritable Excalibur out.

"Gh…" I struggled. "Titan, gimme the shield! Right hand!"

"Affirmative, Pilot. Vortex shield engaged."

I pushed down hard into the muck of the river. Wasn't able to watch the shield itself; I wasn't able to turn my whole body to look. Here's to hoping it picked up enough grime to screw up that blade…

The arm swung forward under my control, fingers still extended, and my eyes widened as I saw large globs of sand, mud, and water encircling my palm.

"...release!"

I flicked the Titan's entire forearm forward in an instant, splattering the faceplate of Baranova's Titan with the mixture. She recoiled, adeptly pulling her sword from my arm and tumbling backward, the hand not occupied with her sword wiping away the mess. Now, _that's_ fighting _dirty_ , I thought.

Not even bothering to use the vortex shield any longer, I picked up a massive ball of mud and river water and threw it straight at her sword. The electrical arcs began to intensify, slowly wrapping around the foreign masses. Sparks flew, and the electrical arcs continued to gain fervor.

In fact… there seemed to be no end in sight to the increase. My thoughts were going a mile a minute - I didn't have time to wait for whatever would happen with the sword!

Still on my knees, I lurched forward, extending my fist for the closest piece of her Titan: the leg. My Titan's knuckles slammed straight into the Titan's knee - its _upper_ knee, I supposed - and dislodged a few errant pieces.

Resolute, I pulled myself forward in the sand and began to beat the kneecap inward, laying down alternating punches from either side. The joint was loosening, more sparks were flying, some kind of brownish fluid was spraying everywhere. But a few more moments before Baranova took notice-

There! I pulled back on the arm control, winding up a wallop, and drove straight into the center of the joint. The whole assembly shattered beneath my blow, and the entire bottom portion of the other Titan's leg was severed, quaintly tipping over into the sand.

Baranova let out a pained cry, as she flailed her Titan arms to try to regain balance. It was to no avail, though; her Titan toppled to the side, the stump where its leg once was digging straight into the sand. She began to flail her arms violently, both trying to lift herself out of the sand and… just seeming to throw a tantrum. She shouted something… I could tell it was angry, but it was largely unintelligible.

After a moment, I struggled, and managed to lift myself to my feet again. My Titan's left hand was usable on its own, but the vortex shield was unusable in that hand, and I couldn't close the hand completely, either. Still, the overall damage wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. Chalk one up for fighting dirty, I thought.

In front of me, though, Baranova managed to claw at the sand enough to gain some traction. She pulled herself forward, and though she wasn't even attempting to stand up and balance on one foot, she certainly didn't endeavor to stick around. After but a moment of a crawl, she disappeared into the same _shwiff-pop_.

Behind me, I immediately heard Hermes vacate his hiding spot, and run over toward me. "You're letting her get away?!"

Slowly, I turned toward him. The damages had obviously taken their toll on my Titan's overall fortitude and mobility. "Wasn't exactly in a position to stop her. She can teleport…"

"Kid, if she gets back to the settlement…" He motioned toward Smuggler's Cove, which suddenly seemed a lot closer than it did when we had just escaped. "...then we're screwed. We already know those AA cannons're online! If she tells 'em to fire on us, we're sure as hell not gettin' outta here alive!"

Dammit… the AA cannons! If they were jumpy enough to start firing at absolutely nothing while we were down in that dungeon… hell, it was a wonder they hadn't obliterated us with them already. He was right, we were screwed if Baranova got back to the Cove, and with no way to stop her when she was teleporting…

"What's the play then?" I shouted down to Hermes.

He threw up his hands. "You tell me! You're the one in the Titan!"

I looked out toward the settlement. Despite our dire straits, it looked almost peaceful. Serene. Would almost be a shame to have to run back…

A shame… a _damn shame_. Hermes's words rang in my mind as clearly as if he'd spoken them to me the very same from right where he stood in front of me. In an instant, all I could lose flashed before my eyes. If Baranova, in her fit, did as she set out to do, then my way out of here, my way back to my _life_ … would be gone.

And the only thing people would have any cause to say in the wake of it… the only thing written in the history books, the news outlets, if they ever bothered with me… was that it was a _damn shame_.

I was already in action, my uninjured Titan hand springing forward towards Hermes, his expression not even having time to register. He was in my hand, and I was sprinting over the riverbed, approaching Smuggler's Cove once again.

"-man, what the hell-?" Hermes's incomplete bewilderment crackled.

"Can you hack a turret?" It almost sounded like a statement as it came out of my mouth. I'd almost assumed he could.

"What the- what?" He was still completely in shock from being taken up into the Titan's hand. Or maybe I was just squeezing him a little too tight.

"The AA turrets. If I drop you off at that first one-" His gaze took a quick detour toward the nearest AA gun off to our left, before returning to me. "-would you be able to hack it? Turn it to our side?"

He hesitated, looking somewhere between dumbfounded and annoyed. "...I don't know anything about these turrets! I don't know anything about _any_ damn turrets, what makes you think I can hack them?"

"Fine! Could you at least try to disable one of them while I take care of the others?" From outside the city, it was possible to tell that there were three main AA guns: the one closest to us, and two on the outer edges of that water treatment canopy where we'd escaped the dungeon. Figured Hermes could take the one closest to the ship, so he could run on back as soon as he finished… well, _whatever_ he was going to do with the turret, now. Then again, if I couldn't take out the other two, and they managed to hone in on the ship… he'd still be shit outta luck.

" _Disable_ it? I just said I don't know shit about these turrets, how am I supposed to-"

"Just break some shit, Hermes! Can you at least do that?!"

He threw up his hands, still bewildered. "I… can _try_! I _guess_!" He was just saying that to get me off him. Or maybe he just wanted me to drop him sooner rather than later.

I pivoted slightly, deviating from the original path. I could have brought my Titan straight through an underpass, and ended up at the back of the settlement beneath the turrets… but there was no way up. If there was, we would have noticed it while we were escaping… would have made our job significantly easier, too.

That was when I heard it: Baranova had reappeared, somewhere, above us. She had neared the turret, somehow making it there before us, even with a bum leg.

"Wake up, idiots! We got company; get your shit pointed planetside!" That was the only thing I heard her screech, her pride however lacking, before I heard her disappear again. Immediately following, I stopped in my tracks, skidding slightly and kicking sand up into my hand with Hermes. Through Hermes's spitting and breathless cursing, the nearest turret sputtered to life, and slowly its cannons began to prime and spin towards us, blowing away seemingly years of grime and dust as they did so.

Hermes, finally dislodging the final speck of sand from his lip, also noticed that upon which my gaze was so transfixed. He turned back to me. "Your time to shine!"

Had to think fast… as useful as that vortex shield was, I wasn't keen on the idea of having to actually take fire to use it. Furthermore, chucking sand and mud wasn't going to cut it this time. Who knows if it could even _stop_ a round as large as these turrets could bang out? Frantically, I looked around for something, _anything_ , that I could use as a weapon.

Damn, nothing around but sand, water, and rocks!

Maybe...

To my left sat a boulder: a regal thing, massive and struck clean and smooth from the water surrounding. My gaze shifted, from the boulder, to my sliced hand, back to the boulder again. I abruptly leapt, much to Hermes's nauseous chagrin, toward the boulder, stretching out the fingers of my sliced hand and mashing them into the side of the boulder. Just as I desired, the fingers dug in, and allowed me to pull out a sizeable chunk of the boulder. With the massive stone in hand, I pulled my arm back, and aimed the boulder at the cannon like a shotput. Following through with my whole body, I hurled the stone at the cannon, shaking Hermes violently in the process.

"Could you just… put me down…" He could barely let the words escape. Hermes almost sounded earnest rather than angry. I think the stress was getting to him. Or maybe the nausea, anyway.

The stone flew true for the cannon, colliding directly between the massive barrels, and causing them to both suddenly unlock, and fall limp against the body of the cannon again like a deflated balloon, so hard that the falling barrels made massive dents into the side. Well… that took care of that.

Or, maybe not. In the distance, I could hear yet another cannon firing up, and I could've sworn I heard Baranova appearing and disappearing again, along with some sound of a loud cracking and slicing. She was beginning to become more zealous with her sword, no doubt, though how she was able to move so swiftly with a missing leg wasn't clear. More than likely, once she'd alerted the last turret, she'd circle back around and come for me again, and whether or not she was dragging herself around one leg, it was _not_ something I'd like to deal with.

Hermes, seeing the destruction of the first cannon and, too, noticing the second, looked up toward the viewport of the Titan. "Get moving!" He yelled.

No need to say it. I turned back, heading around the boulder and up the hill beside it. As long as I stayed in the thick of the buildings, they wouldn't shoot at me, right? They wouldn't risk destroying the entire infrastructure of this place just to ' _stick it_ ' to someone they didn't like, right?

...except, that's exactly what it seems Baranova did to seize power here in the first place. Dammit. Nonetheless, I kept Hermes close to my chest, and my free hand low to my other side, in case I had to pick up anything else from the ground to throw.

"There's three more of those turrets, Hermes. I'm dropping you at the one on the right." My voice retained some urgency, though somehow, I could feel it waning; a sheer confidence was rising in me with every step of this Titan - we _could_ do this! "Do whatever you can to stop that thing from shooting at us, and I'll do the rest!"

"Fine! Dear god, just put me down _somewhere_ already!" Hermes shouted, now visibly struggling to break free of my clutches.

 _Crack!_ Just as we had reached the street, a flash of something metallic came streaming forward, out of nowhere, straight in front of us! It was all I could do to skid to a stop, feeling the Titan's thrusters kick in and aid me, pushing me to the side away from the source of the object.

Though, whatever it was, it didn't seem to aiming for us in the first place.

"Pilot: dimensional warping detected. Suggest immediate evacuation from the area." Shit. Was it Baranova's teleporting Titan again? If so, she'd had the jump on us; why didn't she attack?

Instead, directly to the side of the road, a palm tree came crashing down, splintering as the metallic object sliced through it. The top portion of the tree slumped for but a moment, before disappearing into the black and white swirl of nothingness into which the metallic object also vanished. If it was Baranova, had she just missed? Leg or no leg, I doubt she could be _that_ careless - especially with the element of the surprise.

"No way." Finally I responded to my Titan. "Let's get to that turret!"

"Affirmative, pilot. Assistive controls are at the ready."

Forward we marched, straight for the turret. But Smuggler's Cove wasn't going to let us get there without a fight. As we moved down the street, more and more its occupants began to emerge, each of them armed to the teeth in their own scavenged weapons. A mixture of rifles, pistols, and launchers lay between us and the turret.

"Aww, shit! Kid! _Move!"_ shouted Hermes, realizing he was still in danger. As much of his body was concealed by the Kong-esque fingers of the Titan, his head and most of his legs were completely unguarded, sticking out the ends of her hand like a runner's baton. He'd be about as _useful_ as a runner's baton soon enough, if anyone tried to take a shot at us - and that inevitability was driving closer and closer by the second.

As if reading my mind, the Titan responded in kind. She crooked her arm, while still keeping it maneuverable and under my control, and engaged the vortex shield. Between that and her solid chassis, Hermes was mostly covered, and getting to the turret was possible. Good thing, too - it was just one more moment before the bullets began flying, tracers darting like fireflies throughout the expanse before us.

I tried to lean into our trajectory, and let the thicker part of the Titan's hull take any stray rounds that missed the vortex shield. _Just a little further_ …

Shit. Just as we had reached the intersection in front of the cannon, an eerie thrumming began to emanate from it, and sure enough, it slowly started to pivot, its cannons rising and pointing directly at me like the eyes of a predator.

"Hermes, get ready!" I shouted, my tone getting further and further to the point of utter direness. Behind me, I could hear the local forces regrouping; after having jumped out of our way as we passed for fear of getting trampled underfoot, they were surely trying to flank us for their revenge.

"Hit it!" yelled Hermes, his hands firmly planted on the topmost finger of the Titan's hand. I could hear them behind me: the pirates were ready to fire - it was a wonder that they hadn't already. Hermes would have to go _now_ , or everything they had would tear straight through my back.,

With a forced cry, I released the Titan's hand, Hermes using his grip on the massive finger to launch himself forward. He bounded toward the ground below, landing hard, but quickly recovering with a roll across his back. Swiftly, I turned to meet the pirates. Instinctively, as if both my and the Titan's minds were in sync, my fist slammed into the ground before me. A shockwave erupted from it, expanding through the nearby concrete and sending a wave beneath the group of pirates. Damn good thing, too; now floored and trying to regain their balance in front of me were no less than fifteen ragtag vagrants, some even sporting patchwork armor not unlike that of the boat men we had met hours before. A few of them were even holding bulbous rocket launchers, the kind that would make short work of my Titan's hull if they'd gotten them off. If I had turned just a half a second later—

No. No use in thinking about that now. Just had to find a way to make sure they knew I wasn't screwing around; I certainly didn't want to kill any of them, despite _their_ sentiment towards _me_. But I had to make sure no one would get any ideas as soon as my back was turned-

Well, that was easy. Shouldn't have been. What had happened? As soon as any of the waylaid pirates had found their respective footing, they instantly scrambled for any nearby shelter. I suppose they got the idea, I thought to myself, slightly surprised at my own tenacity.

But it was short-lived. Soon, the true harbinger of their departure appeared, there, at the end of the street. Emerging from the swirling dimensional rift was Baranova, standing on her own two feet again. Now I understood: where I had mangled her leg, she had taken that thin tree she'd chopped down, and another just like it, and stuck them directly into the exposed machinery and wiring, making herself a meager prosthetic. Patchwork armor, patched together Titans on the fly; these pirates sure knew how to make do with the least. The 'Pirate Queen' had a big Titan peg leg. Who'd've thunk it?

She stood still at the end of the street, staring me down. I must say, she actually did a decent job with the length of her 'peg leg'; from where I was standing, I could only just barely notice her leaning down on that side.

"Alright, kid, operator's down, control pad's busted, let's—" Hermes emerged from around the parapet guarding the turret, immediately yelling to me. Surprising he hadn't noticed the complete silence that had erupted… what did he think I was doing? Standing there stoically waiting for him to finish up so I could ferry him to the next one? Whatever thought was in his head, it shattered quick as he spotted Baranova standing at the end of the street. "Shit…" he said under his breath. "Shit, shit, ship ship— I'll fire up the ship, get that last cannon down!"

I only glanced down for a moment to see him as he ran past me, making for the way we had come. He'd gained plenty of rips in his coat and scuffs on his face, but at the very least, he'd picked up an assault rifle somewhere. At least he could fend for himself on the way back - or at the very least, not die without putting a few rounds down range.

I realized only then that we had really just gone in a circle; I was standing in the street between the water treatment plan where I had first heard the _shwiff-pop_ of Baranova's Titan, and where I'd imagined Hermes leaving me behind. And there he was, running off for the ship alone, all the while Baranova's gaze was fixed on me, somehow entrancingly, keeping me trapped. Gone in a circle, indeed.

Not sure why I expected Baranova to say something. Perhaps, since she had spoken to us earlier by the ship, I thought she'd have _something_ lined up to spout. But given how much damage I'd done, there was nothing left to say.

Leaning forward, she began her bounding sprint straight at me. It was a clear shot up the street, nothing could slow her down. Hell, even losing a leg didn't seem to phase her; the speed she'd picked up in less than a second was remarkable. She drew her sword from her back, dragging it along the ground beside her as she ran. It would have truly been something to behold - had she not been meaning to slaughter me.

What to do…? What could I do? I stood transfixed, like a dunce, as an entity solely geared toward my demise just about soared at me, sword agleam with electricity. She was already halfway down the street, and I was frozen in place.

"Pilot: suggest you use your environment to your advantage." Baranova was just about on top of me. "Now, please."

One thing at a time.

Just as Baranova was to reach me, I felt the Titan lurch to the side abruptly, thrusters engaging to push us out of the way of the thrusting sword. Baranova seemed rather nonplussed that she hadn't managed to gore me, but she wasn't deterred. Without missing a beat, she flipped the sword in her hand, spinning it in a half circle and stabbing the ground beside her, slicing into the pavement and sending an arc wave along the ground at me.

Couldn't move in time; I'd only just settled from dodging her first strike. The electricity crackled as it snaked up my legs, and every joint in the Titan's body locked up. Through the distorted view screen, I watched helplessly as she drew her sword triumphantly from the ground like a veritable Excalibur, and began to walk toward me. The effects of the arc wave were fading, but even so, this wasn't sustainable. I couldn't just run around this colony endlessly. Had to focus on getting that last cannon down, and somehow get the hell out of here.

As Baranova drew closer, the Titan's most recent suggestion came ringing back through my brain - _use the environment to your advantage_. What was there? Was she telling me to hide? This place wasn't exactly designed to let an intruder have a fighting chance. Hell, I'd end up six feet _under_ the environment at this rate.

Wait - just how easily had Baranova stabbed the ground? The shockwave I had sent through the ground before; was the pavement that loose? Could my weapon… be underfoot the entire time?

Baranova was just about on top of me as my vision finally cleared and I snapped back to reality. Almost theatrically, she took the sword in both hands, then raised it above her head like she was about to chop a log of firewood in half.

Not today.

I dashed backward just as her sword began to come down, and it chopped into the ground just like before. Though this time, there was no electricity snaking toward me, and Baranova was certainly not pleased about it.

Hurrying, I reached down with my damaged hand and scraped it along the ground, the pavement peeling easily away like a thick layer of dead skin. Not wasting any time, I hucked the glob of crushed pavement at Baranova, and she recoiled away, her arms flailing at her sides.

"Oh, you gotta be fuckin' kidding me!" Oddly enough, that wasn't the most explicit or threatening thing Baranova'd said yet, but it scared me the most. She was annoyed enough to get vicious.

I spun around toward the water treatment facility where we'd emerged from the dungeon, and ran in. If I could grab another piece of pavement debris, and get it thrown at that last turret, then I'd be home free.

Home. It was almost in sight. Once we got out of here, we shouldn't waste any more time - we had to go straight for the IMC and get Lucy and dad back. To hell with 'laying low'.

That was all shattered as I emerged from the other end of the water treatment canopy. A massive regiment of pirates stood there, completely blocking my path. Their weapons, a mixture of automatic rifles and rocket launchers, were all poised to obliterate me in my tracks.

I just reacted. Maybe it was the Titan, maybe it was some instinct deep in me. I just sweeped my bad hand across, knocking them all aside like toy soldiers. A few even went flying and hit the broad side of the nearest building, those going limp with a fleshy _thud_.

Maybe they were dead. No way to tell for sure. What _was_ for sure is that _I'd_ be dead if I didn't move. I regained my pace, continuing up the street. I was almost there; the cannon was just around the corner now.

"Pilot - mind your six."

I swiveled to check over my shoulder, somehow expecting Baranova to be directly behind me now, sword at the ready. Instead, I was greeted with a few of the same vagrants I'd just slapped around. At least I hadn't killed them all, I thought. Maybe that was something.

The ones coming up on me now had automatic rifles - nothing a moment uptime on the vortex shield couldn't take care of. I guess they'd seen that trick already, though; as soon as I caught a reasonable amount of bullets in the fray, the pirates all dove for cover. Suppose it was better that way, anyway. The quicker I could get that cannon, and the fewer casualties I dealt, the better.

I rounded the corner swiftly, and immediately stopped. Hadn't noticed it in the fray before, but the cannon was already getting primed. I needed something to throw, now!

"Come, get it set, go!"

From behind me, I heard a couple of frantic voices. I turned, and saw two more pirates, one monitoring as the other mounted up a particularly nasty looking rocket launcher in the window. How much more obvious could you get? I could just pull up my vortex shield, and redirect the rocket at the turret.

I threw a quick glance at the turret only to realize - it was nearly set to murder me. The cannons were just stopping, pointed directly at my center.

Not enough time. My hand flew out at the two pirates in the window, but I wasn't going for them - not directly, anyway. My fingers wrapped around the inside of the window, and I tore a huge piece of the building away. Debris spilled into the street, along with both of the pirates who hit the ground one on top of the other unceremoniously. I'd actually barely gotten any of the wall, but had a decent chunk of the roof in my hand.

Spinning and following through, I wound the building piece up and threw it straight at the turret. It was easier this time. Maybe because I'd already done it before. Sure enough, the front of the turret crushed inward, and the two barrels on the sides were pulled abruptly together, causing them to wrend unnaturally.

"That's it! Let's get back to the ship!" I pressed the pads of my fingers as hard as I could on the front of the movement control, and we dashed forward, continuing into a sprint. "Reroute all the power we've got into movement!"

"That is not a function this unit possesses. Note: the ability to reroute power is not standard on any IMC-sanctioned-"

"Whatever, just go!" I could already hear some of the pirates regrouping behind me. Hopefully, by the time they could take aim, we'd be long gone out of their range.

We'd really just ended up doing a massive loop around the colony. I emerged off the street right by where Baranova had cut down the tree and nearly sheared me in half, too. Still, it eluded me why she hadn't just sliced us in half already in the same way. She obviously had the speed for it, and the skill. Was there something more going on here?

Already, we'd reached the ship; I'd barely realized it, lost in thought. Hermes had already gotten everything primed, and as we came up on the ship, the hatched door flew open. The Titan and I bowed our heads, and dashed straight into the hatch in one quick motion.

"Alright, lemme out!" I yelled to the Titan, and the view screens went dark, immediately opening like a massive mouth and spilling me out. I jumped down and immediately made for the opening into the cockpit, slipping in and stepping up next to Hermes.

"We're in; close us up and get us outta this system!" I shouted, Hermes trying to distance himself from me. It did get pretty loud if you shouted in that cockpit, but my ears were ringing so loudly, I barely noticed.

"I'm doing what I can here, kid! Goin' ta FTL ain't exactly bakin' cookies!"

We had already lifted off just after the Titan and I had gotten in, and by now, we could see nearly the entirety of Smuggler's Cove from in the cockpit. Despite our experiences there, the view certainly was still dazzling. Like ants, the pirates dashed around, some even stopping and staring up at us as we ascended like a-

 _BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!_ From the ship's controls, a massive red light flashed, and an image of the ship came up on one of the smaller view screens. Around that image of the ship, a concentric circle slowly shrunk.

"What the hell- one o' the cannons is locking onto us!"

"What?!" No. No way. This couldn't be happening. After all that, one of the cannons was still operational? That couldn't be, I had destroyed all of them-

Except I hadn't. Hermes had taken one of them.

"The ones _I_ hit certainly couldn't be doing anything!"

Hermes knew what I was implying, and he gave me a look of both defense and accusation. "Well, I ripped the entire damn control panel offa mine! How in the-" He stopped abruptly. It took me less than a second to follow his gaze and realize what he was seeing.

Down below, at the cannon Hermes had defaced, stood Baranova. Even at this distance, there was no mistaking it - her hand was poised over the destroyed turret control panel, and a thick tangle of wires stretched between her Titan's hand and the controls. And, sure enough, the turret was turning. It had a definite bead on us. Somehow, even though I couldn't see her, I knew Baranova had a massive smile on her face.

"Open the cargo hatch and turn us aft." I didn't even know what 'aft' was. But with what I was planning, it likely wouldn't matter anyway. Turning on my heel, I made for the port between the cargo area and the cockpit.

Hermes looked over his shoulder, still blindly flipping switches on the dash and trying to evade. "What are you gonna do?"

I didn't answer. Hell, I barely even knew what I was doing myself.

But it had to work.

As if the Titan and I were already in sync, it opened up, and I jumped up onto the outstretched lip, letting it fold me directly into the pilot's chair.

Hermes must have thought it couldn't hurt to do _anything_ at this point, as the cargo hatch swung up abruptly. I took the top of the hatch in my broken hand as much as I could, steadying myself as the Titan and I leaned around the side. Despite my poor nomenclature, Hermes must have obliged again, as he turned the ship so the Titan and I were facing directly out at the cannon. Maybe he realized what we were going to do. Or maybe just didn't care at this point. I wonder if I would have, if I were him.

Had to time this exactly right. I couldn't keep the vortex shield up forever, and Baranova would never fire on us if she saw me baring it. I could catch the massive rounds from the turret, and send them flying straight back at it. With that, we'd be free to make our jump out of here.

As if on queue, just then, the sound of the turrets echoed up to us, and I could just barely make out for a split second the flash of the muzzles of the two barrels. In turn, I threw out my hand before me, the vortex shield immediately emerging without my verbal command. Hey, I was getting at this whole Titan thing. She wasn't quite the burden I'd initially pegged her for. Maybe, whenever we got… wherever we ended up, she'd have a place in our-

It was as if the vortex shield wasn't even there. The rounds from the turret were massive, and I could only realize it too late. They tore past the vortex shield, going straight through the Titan's arm. The light emanating from the vortex shield, a symbol my hope for our escape, immediately vanished and was replaced with a searing light on that side of the Titan. The turret had punched through the vortex shield straight into the Titan's shoulder, tearing off its whole right arm, and bringing a massive chunk of the chassis with it. I watched helplessly as the arm clunked down to the floor of the ship, and tilted over the edge, falling down to the ground below.

Couldn't even watch that for _too_ long, either. Immediately, I heard an even louder _BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP_ echoing through the ship. I could barely even realize there was a massive alarm light blinking; the light now flooding in from the huge hole punched straight through the ship's roof saw to that. A loud _bang_ and sputter came from the engines, and the ship immediately dropped to the side and began to spin around uncontrollably, descending all too rapidly.

"Engines are out! We're going down!" Somehow, Hermes's voice cut through the commotion so clearly. He must have been shouting right at the top of his lungs, the kind of yell you'll only hear when someone realizes that they're _actually_ about to die. If my airways hadn't been closing up from the excess of adrenalin, perhaps I'd have done the same.

"Pi-pi-pi-pilot: protocol-col-col-col two, up- protoco-o-o-o-l three. Ee." She could barely speak, barely hold it together… I'd say mentally, even, but I think it was everything the Titan could do to to hold onto the ship for balance and keep the entire chassis from falling apart physically. I almost thought she'd failed at that even, for a moment; from above me, a mess of wires and electrical components suddenly dropped into view. However, in the center of it was a massive metal cylinder, with a glowing blue circle on the side of it. Through the shaking, I could see its label: 'SERE Kit'. "Remove-move the SERE Kit. Kit. It contains-s-s-s my main AI core-ore."

Why should I remove this thing? This Titan knew where home was, it knew plenty about me apparently, too; if I remembered correctly, it said it had some kind of profile on me when I first got in back home. The worst thing I could do now was remove this thing. If anything, it should get destroyed with the rest of the ship. And me.

Yet, somehow, I still found myself reaching up for it. What was I doing? My bad shoulder was screaming, too; I wouldn't gain anything from this.

The way the SERE kit was connected in was completely ramshackle. Quickly, I tried to remove each small connecter while counteracting the motion of the ship, and ignore Hermes's desperate screams of "Shit! Shit! Shit!". This thing was just as much patchwork as I'd seen down in the cove below. No matter how you looked at this, it was clear: this 'SERE kit' was _not_ supposed to be in there. Who the hell had managed to meticulously feed all those errant wires around into the Titan's systems?

There was one final connector: a large one straight in the top of the cylinder. We'd reach the ground in a few moments, I had to-

"Thank you, Pilot." Her final words to me there came out at as clear as ever, as if she wasn't even damaged. "I'll always be with y-" Her final word was cut off, as I pulled the plug from the SERE kit, and let it drop into my lap.

My hands fell down to my sides, slamming down into the Titan movement controls. But it didn't move. It was just frozen in place. As was I; staring out the open cargo port, waiting for the cold ground to meet us. Oh, why had I gone for that damn kit?! I could've used that time to figure something out? What in me was telling me to keep this thing-?

I thought I knocked something on the controls of the Titan, as it suddenly sprang into motion again. It slowly leaned out of the port, pushing me out of the pilot's chair and onto the surface of the view screen, which continued to flicker. Suddenly, I heard a robotic voice echo inside the chassis - not robotic like the one whose kit I somehow was able to hold onto as I fell, but a voice that was entirely monotone and computer generated. Still, that didn't make its words hit any softer.

"Ejecting pilot."

The entire top of the Titan just about flew off and disappeared into the torrent of wind spitting through the cargo hold, and the pilot's seat flew up directly at me. Had I actually been fully seated in it, perhaps it would have been a smooth ejection - well, about as smooth as being ejected out of a large robot from the perch of spaceship spinning out of control _could_ be. But I'd become unseated and lay on the frontal view screen, and the pilot's chair just about punted me out of the side of the ship.

If it had ejected me any earlier, I'd surely be dead immediately. Sure, it would have taken longer to make landfall, but I likely would have just died of shock from seeing how high up we were. Not that what really ended up happening was much better.

I was thrown onto the main part of a large roof, sliding forcefully along the surface, my initial speed carrying me up the slope. My arms still clung to the SERE kit, though frankly, I likely would have let go if I could have moved my arms at all. It felt like just about everything that could have broken inside my body did right at the first moment of impact, and the burn of the friction on my back didn't make it any better.

I crested the top of the roof, and though I slowed, the ride wasn't over yet. Slowly, my speed picked back up as I slid down the other side of the roof, headed head first for the edge. If I could've just reached out and grabbed onto something, I could've stopped myself.

But if I opened my arms, I would have lost my SERE kit.

I couldn't lose her.

 _Whump._

Nevermind. Not everything must have broken on that first impact, because after falling two stories from the roof and hitting the hard pavement, I could feel just about everything left breaking again.

Something was leaking. The SERE kit? No. Warm. Running down my head. Blood? My entire damn brain? Hell, it felt like the latter. I could only just hear myself sputtering over the ringing in my ears. Couldn't breathe through my mouth; my airways were still closing up, and I could feel the blood pooling at the back of my throat. Couldn't breathe out of my nose; too much blood in there too.

Through the smallest possible breaths I could take, my breaths in and out bubbling through the blood in my mouth, I tried to stay awake. Darkness was closing in again.

But it was because of me. If it was to end here, at least I went down fighting for what I believed in. What I loved.

I felt my arms cling to the SERE kit even tighter, as my eyelids got heavy. Couldn't keep it up anymore.

I think mom would understand. I think she'd be proud.

She could tell me herself. As my vision faded, I knew I'd be seeing her soon anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

"Honey. Honey, wake up! We're going to be late."

My eyes slowly opened, regaining focus and revealing Mom sitting on the side of my bed, beside my motionless form just barely beginning to stir after a long night's rest. She wasn't kidding, I thought, when she mentioned this place would be 'luxury': the thick, plush blankets around me, the smell of cherry bark permeating the room, the grand high ceilings and esoteric internal design. True to its name, it truly was something of a hidden 'Haven'.

"He up yet?" The voice came from downstairs. Usually, Dad wouldn't have been awake before me... _but,_ he never would have heard the end of it if he slept in on Mom's special day.

"I'm up, I'm up…" My voice was strained, as I still coped with being awoken so abruptly.

Mom turned to yell vaguely in the direction of my dad's voice. "Getting there!" Her voice was never really meant to project. Hoped they had a lot of microphones for her today. Would more microphones make you louder? She seemed to notice my mind was beginning to wander. "No time to lose!" She pulled the covers off of me, and gave my chest a light smack. "Get your suit on! We're leaving in ten minutes, buster!" Couldn't sound intimidating to save her life. That said, I wasn't going to disappoint her, although as she turned and waltzed down the stairs (with a veritable spring in her step that nearly caused her to fall, might I add), I could have done anything I wanted.

I swiveled on my butt and put my feet down to a cold hardwood floor, flinching as the chill shot through my body. Was going to need plenty of energy today; I'd have to, at the very least, be _pretending_ to listen to Mom's speech, even though I knew I wouldn't understand a lick of it.

Standing managed to wake me up a bit more, so I finally dragged myself down the stairs, clutching the railing and rubbing my eyes along the way. We may have planned this trip - planned this _day_ \- for months on end, but that wasn't going to change my insistence on breakfast. Dad was, of course, already on top of it; I doubt he'd give up breakfast either, even today of all days.

"How many eggs do you _need_?" A small snigger escaped my mom's lips as she said it. Rushing as she was to get on her best black suit jacket, I could just make out her face scrunching up a little bit. Her nostrils always flared when she got nervous or fired up about something, and the way she puffed her cheeks out accordingly to offset was obviously overcompensating. Of course, she could've been just trying to fend off the stench Dad's 'signature blend of herbs and spices': that being about three whole sprigs of oregano, and a pinch - or twelve - of black pepper. All of which was part of some kind of semicircular mass in the pan, teetering on the edge of inedibility.

"As many as will keep me awake until _you're_ on stage!" Dad said with a fake-smug smile, accenting each word with a shake of the end of his spatula.

"It's gonna go straight through you. You'll be in the _bathroom_ by the time I'm on stage." Mom tightened her tie, a little too tight. Her eye-rolling sarcastic expression turned to mild shock for a moment as it constricted her neck, prompting her to simply pull it off completely.

"That's _not_ ," said Dad, barely able to hold back a defensive laugh. "How the human body works."

"But it _is_ how your cooking works," snickered Mom. She turned again, and seemed to fully notice me for the first time since she woke me up. Her eyes widened, but not with worry, just surprise. "And you better not miss my speech because of it."

"Again," I said under my breath. Slight mistake. Mom turned to me, a betrayed stricken look on her face.

"Again?" Behind her, Dad was gesturing wildly. Bared teeth, hand slashing across the throat. Mom quickly shifted her gaze to him, and just caught the tail end of it as he, futilely, pretended to just be scratching his chin aloofly. "Wait, on Eden- you said that you got an important business call!"

Dad shrugged, with an awkward grimace on his face. "Well… a certain kind of business _was_ calling…"

"Oh, lovely." Mom rolled her eyes, and swept up to me, whisking me back toward the staircase. " _You_ need to get dressed." She was right; no way I could go out in public in my Ogre Titan jammies.

As we ascended the staircase, her hand lightly stroking the top of my head, Dad lifted his sautee pan and spatula, his mouth half full. "Hey! Aren't you gonna eat?!"

"I've lost my appetite. Thank God," Mom said, only just loud enough to reach Dad, who was already chowing down on the rest of the near-burnt eggs.

"I'm still hungry," I said quietly, trying my best to pout.

"You can have some of that… _concoction_ if you promise not to get any on your jacket." She patted my back, and I nodded vigorously, beginning to skip steps to get up faster.

Mom wasn't even in the room yet, and I already had my dress shirt and jacket on. My pants were still those adorned with hulking Titans, one hand striking a bulky thumbs-up, the other pointing directly at the observer. _I want YOU to have a good night's sleep._

Rounding the doorway, she looked me up and down. "Well… I suppose at least the Hammond guys might even be flattered if you showed up like that." I smiled and looked down at the pants. Did she get them for me? Or did I pick them out somewhere? Before I knew it, Mom was kneeled down in front of me, straightening my jacket, brushing a bit of dandruff from my collar. She looked me straight in the eye, and let a hefty sigh escape her nostrils.

A quick glance down, and then she met my gaze again, this time with something else behind her eyes. Her lips quivered a little bit, betraying the smile she tried to hold on her face. Even as a kid, it didn't go over my head. "What's wrong, Momma?" I hadn't called her that in what felt like ages.I could tell, that one extra syllable cut her to the bone. One single sniffle, and she regained her composure.

"You, uh…" Maybe she wasn't entirely composed. One more sniffle. "It's just you're growing up so fast." She looked down at the floor again. I could tell, she was getting a little choked up. "I'm really, _really_ proud of you." She wiped her eye with the edge of her collar. "Seems like the less I watch over you, the more I make you come to places like this and watch _me_."

"But I like watching you do these!" I said, in an innocent attempt to cheer her up. "And I _like_ coming to all these places-"

"I know you do, sweetie." She gave me a light pat on my cheek, then used the same hand to wipe her eyes swiftly. She leaned in close, right next to my ear. "I haven't told your dad yet, but… I think it's all gonna change soon." She leaned back away, and gave me a congenial grin.

"What do you mean?" I was none too eager to lose our free resort stays and excuses to eat out.

"This is a... " She stopped, looking nonplussed. Undoubtedly, she was trying to find a way to put it so I could understand. "A really special project. Big one; lots of money being thrown around."

"Well… what does that mean for us?"

"It means we won't _have_ to move around all the time. We'll be in one place," She ran her hand over the top of my head, down to my cheek. "And we'll all be together."

My eyes widened. "Forever?"

Her smile widened too. "Forever. You'll see. We're gonna show something here today that's gonna be… crazy. Really." She stood up, and put her hands on her hips, as footsteps approached on the nearby staircase, causing her voice to pick up a bit of volume. "And I know how hard you and your father are to impress."

Mom turned, obviously expecting to see Dad coming up the stairs. Instead, she was met with an imposing older man, gray combover lackadaisically disrupted by a communications headset , gray jacket to match his hair. He had some kind of accent that I couldn't recognize; it wasn't like most of the other people Mom worked with.

"Ma'am. You do realize you're on in fifteen minutes?"

"Marder." Mom obviously knew him, and by the tone of her voice, she was obviously not fond of him. "You didn't think of calling before barging into our hotel room?"

"Bit of an understatement calling this a 'room'. All this extra space could be used for something practical-"

"Are we going, or what?"

Marder stepped to the side, ungating the staircase. Mom leaned down and put her hand on the back of my neck, aiding her in giving me a quick peck on the forehead. "I'll see you out in the audience, sweetie." She made for the stairs, and without turning around, said "And you really should wear your good pants!" as she descended. Marder turned to the staircase, then gave me a quick glance, and gave me a forced smile. You know the kind - that forced smile, not reflected behind the eyes, that conveys only condescension. He quickly slithered away behind Mom, and both of them disappeared.

I descended the stairs myself a minute later, having donned my pleated black dress pants just as Mom wanted. She was already gone, of course, undoubtedly already backstage at the nearby promenade. The door to the resort room was still open, revealing a street bustling with finely dressed throngs of people, all funneling somewhere straight across the street from our door.

"Last chance, buddy!" From the side, the frying pan was shoved directly beneath my nostrils, and I went cross-eyed looking down at it beyond the tip of my nose.

"You ate more than three quarters of it already." Maybe I would've been more amused, under different circumstances.

"I also weigh more than twice what you do." Dad produced a plate from his other hand, dumping the semi-burnt slurry onto it from the pan, before putting it on the nearby countertop and placing his open hand onto his gut. "Though, that'll hopefully change with that new stair climber back home," he added under his breath. He looked over to me, as I watched him with mild concern. "Eat! We gotta go." He gave me a sympathetic grin, and began looking around for our ID badges.

The eggs were about exactly as I expected. Though I probably couldn't have done better in such a short time. It wasn't long before Dad had slipped an ID badge around my neck, and ushered me toward the door.

Immediately, we were caught in the veritable river of individuals flowing down toward the central promenade. Between several buildings, there was a clearing of sorts; directly beneath a luxury bungalow, there was an open space that had been fashioned into a makeshift stage. A podium stood front and center, with several chairs accompanying it on each side. I only just caught a glimpse of the stage, but not of Mom, as we pushed through to reach the stairs. I remembered having seen some of these people before, but I couldn't quite recall from where. Maybe they had come around to one of the many get-togethers Mom had held back home after her team finished a big project. Maybe I had seen one on "bring your child to work day"?

...not _him_ , though.

As we pushed through the crowd, I ended up bumping into a few people. Not surprising; as much as I wanted to see what exciting project Mom was talking about, most of the grownups around likely wanted to get down to this presentation more than I did. Either because they had large sums of money riding on it, or perhaps because they might have understood it.

Dad was pulling me along, trying to navigate through the crowd, when my hand slipped out of his. I saw him turn back, but his face was almost immediately obscured by three others filling in the gap. And I certainly couldn't look over anyone's heads.

And that's when he hit me. Or rather, I hit him. In the commotion, to make my way forward back to Dad, I bumped into yet another passerby. It was odd - this one was standing completely still, facing directly away from the staircase. I craned back, and saw him, just standing there.

The first thing that hit me, beyond his mere appearance, was that he just looked… off. No one else seemed to notice him; in fact, the crowd moved around him as if he was a planet and the rest were meteorites, sliding through his gravitational field. But, beyond that, he just didn't seem to fit in with the environment. Sure, with his ratty looking matching cargo jacket and pants and unkempt stubble, scratched goggles atop his head, enough dirt that it nearly kicked up dust as people passed him, he didn't look like everyone else around. The light of the sun didn't seem to interact with him properly; it was like poorly edited photograph. He just stared me down, his head cocked awkwardly to the side resting on his shoulder, his jaw slack and hanging slightly open. My expression changed slowly from one of confusion, to a mixture of awe and a will to understand.

"Hey!" Dad grabbed hold of my hand again, and I whipped my head around to look up at him, that vacant look still on my face. "Could you imagine what your mom would say if she couldn't see us in the crowd?" He cracked a smile. "Let's make sure to get good seats."

One more glance back, and the man was gone, the crowds still filing through.

Lucky for us, most of the people filing in seemed to be reporters, all of them holding old-fashioned pen and paper pads in hand, striking the old inquisitive poses around the back of the promenade. There was reserved seating right up in front of the stage, specifically for 'honored guests of the presenters', as the accompanying placard read. There were a few women sitting at the end of the row, but as it seemed to be the most vacant area, Dad waved me in. I knew the drill - that awkward shuffle as people try their hardest not to stand up and get out of your way as you file in. Like at the theater. Except, if Mom was right, we were going to see something a lot crazier than a movie.

Dad could tell I wasn't exactly comfortable with sitting next to the ladies on the outer part of the row, so he took the seat next to them. While the commotion around began to die down, one of them struck up a conversation with them.

"Pardon me, but I don't recognize you," began the woman closest to him. "Are you one of the presenters?"

Dad, being mistaken for the 'breadwinner' all the time, adeptly played it off. "No, my wife's presenting. She's one of the lead engineers in the Ares Division."

"Oh, a stay-at-home husband! How _wonderful_!" chimed in the woman farthest. He hadn't even said it yet, but her assumption was right. "Maybe my husband works with her; has she mentioned an Arnold? Arnold Tucker?" Dad did his best to look like he was thinking while maintaining a smile, but the woman once again pressed quickly enough. "Oh, perhaps you know what your wife was working on?"

Uh oh. This was the part Dad dreaded. "Well, I, uh…" He looked away from her bashfully, beginning to blink overly quickly. "Sorry, I'm not a real… _technical_ person. Shows how good of a husband I am, right? She musta practiced that speech with me a hundred times by now, I can't remember a word of it! Hahaha…" The women didn't seem to be amused, and his laughter stopped suddenly. "I think… man, if I just heard the first words of that speech, I betcha I could rattle the whole thing off… uh, something about uh, a… network? Network…" He struggled to find the biggest word he knew. "...infrastructure?"

The woman also seemed to try and look like she was thinking, but only to be polite, and it passed fleetingly. "Perhaps not, then. My husband works on the mechanical structure of the upcoming Spectre project. Best in his field-"

"Lindsay!" whispered the one in the middle, elbowing the other woman. "That's confidential! There are reporters here, you know!"

The other woman (Lindsay, apparently), furrowed her brow at the woman in the middle, before settling back in her chair again. "Won't be classified for _long_ ," she added under her breath. "Arnie's promised to put some extra kick in them just for me… we'll see if those Militia scum-"

"Everyone, please find your seats, we'll be starting momentarily." I couldn't see where the voice came from, but this close to the stage, it nearly blew out my ears as it came from the nearby speakers. One of the women nearby, I couldn't tell which, began to shuffle uncontrollably.

"Quiet down, it's starting!" someone whisper-yelled.

But a moment later, a large holographic display began to materialize at the front of the stage. I'd seen videos like this before: what Dad liked to call 'puff pieces', and Mom… well, generally just ignored to not speak ill of her employer. The video began as it always did, with a flash of the IMC logo, and lots and _lots_ of stock footage: dropships flying around above a crowded city, scientists pointing at a complex equations on a whiteboard while smiling and nodding, and of course a few Titans and IMC military guys picking up rubble and handing out some kind of aid kit to surrounding civilians.

"The Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation. I-M-C. Integrity. Morality. Compassion. All values we hold dear in our continued mission to bring humanity to the _next_ frontier." The footage changed now, focusing more on machinery, manufacturing. "Our Ares Division has worked tirelessly to help secure humanity's future in the stars. Now, we look inward." The footage now showed a few children playing soccer, and their parents smiling brightly on the sidelines, clapping, lens flare nearly blocking the entire view. "The IMC is proud to present an all-new emergent technology…" The children began running to their parents: one little girl to one couple, a little boy to another couple, each time the camera panning up from the child's level to the parents' as they lifted their progeny into their arms. "Ladies and gentlemen… humanity's _next_ frontier." As the last child was scooped up by his mother and father, the camera panned, and it was revealed.

The mother and father's heads were gone. In their stead, large metallic boxes sat, wires springing from below and connecting below their shirts. On the fronts, one massive monolithic light each shone straight in the child's face, like a cyclops's eye. The crowd collectively gasped, before suddenly, the holographic screen disappeared, and a woman stepped forward into the light.

"We call it… _simulacrum_."

Dad pushed forward in his chair, his eyes going wide. He nudged me, and I looked over at him quickly, as he pointed at the stage. Wow, I hadn't even recognized her. Mom had walked forward with such a presence, a confidence with which I hadn't seen her in… well, as long as I could remember. This _must_ have been important to her. Important to _everyone_ , if the video was of any indication.

"My team and I have developed a new neural network algorithm," She pointed to the crowd slyly. "Say that five times fast." The crowd gave a weak collective laugh, and my mom's coy smile widened. "An algorithm that allows external stimuli to be processed, stored, and read in less than a quarter of a femtosecond. For those of you out there doing the math in your heads, don't worry; we've already done it, that's our job." Another weak laugh from the crowd. "This translates to a fully trained network that can operate at over 4 million times the speed of the human brain. And thanks to the work of our brilliant neurosurgeons and signals engineers, along with hundreds of willing volunteer subjects, we have developed a system to train this neural network."

I looked over at Dad, a look of awe growing on my face. It seemed he remembered the speech well enough now, as I even caught him mouthing right along with Mom's words, watching intently. I could see behind Mom that Marder was sitting in the shadows, his PDA lighting up his face. He wasn't even paying attention. Typical. The others sitting near him were at least paying attention. I could barely see them, but like some of the others around, I definitely recognized them. Couldn't place their names, but they were certainly acquaintances or coworkers of Mom's.

A smaller holo-screen appeared right next to Mom, and she stretched out her hand towards it. "With the human consciousness. _Your_ consciousness, _your_ memories-" Her voice grew more and more powerful with each 'your' "- _your_ life…" The edges of her mouth curled upward slyly. "... _you_. No longer are we bound to the human form: disease, famine, disability will soon be a thing of the past." On the screen, a man laid in a hospital bed, with a woman standing near it. On a screen near him, images flashed just barely quick enough to recognize them: a graduation, a marriage, holding a baby for seemingly the first time, then- a soccer game. I got it now. Just as I suspected, the camera panned down from the woman to the ground, where stood the last child from the previous video. A moment later, the camera panned from the man's bed over to another bed mirroring it, with the same robotic body seen before lying in it. Cutting to a closeup of the 'face', the light suddenly started to come to life. The child ran over to the robotic body, and clutched its hand. After a long, pregnant pause, the robotic hand squeezed the child's hand.

Everyone was transfixed on the screen, even me, that they didn't notice Mom now having a companion on-stage. A very special companion, indeed.

"This is the first prototype of what we call the _simulacrum frame_." Wait, I think I remembered this part from when Mom and Dad were practicing, right? Wasn't she going to say- "Beginning with our IMC Insiders program members, volunteers can reserve their simulacrum frame starting _today_." She pursed her lips, and smiled just the same as she had when she told me she was proud of me. "Are _you_ ready to take the first step into the new frontier?"

A generous applause erupted from the crowd, after a short moment of everyone gauging if she was really done speaking. Dad felt the need to stick his fingers in his gob and start whistling, and even from our seats, I could see Mom's cheeks flushing as she tried to pretend like she didn't notice him. After the applause began to die down, I saw Mom squint a little, staring out into the back trying to get a fix on something. After a second or so, she pulled back, brushing it off.

"We've still got a ways to go, folks. Please hold all questions until the end," Mom said, with a smile and finger pointed.

"Ma'am, this needs to be addressed." A woman, with significant indignation in her voice. I turned around to get a glimpse at her, only to find she was closer than I expected. The woman had on a blue suit jacket, and had a recording module in one hand, microphone outstretched in the other. She was slowly working her way up through the crowd; she was quick enough to impose, but slow enough to not disturb anyone around too greatly.

Mom's expression dimmed, but she maintained a smile. She started nervously glancing at her colleagues sitting near her on-stage. More than a few of them just grimaced awkwardly, and one just motioned for her to fully address the oncoming reporter. Mom shook her head, and looked to the reporter like she was about to address her. She didn't have to.

"Kalia Jensen. Free Frontier News Network?" She framed it like a question, as if everyone was already supposed to know who she was. "If you're _training_ a _machine_ to _be_ you, doesn't that mean that it really _isn't_ you? That you're just creating an imitation of the real thing?"

"I don't suppose you'd like us to provide you with the complete source code?" Marder stood up, laboriously, and moved center stage. A nervous laugh echoed washed through the crowd. "Perhaps the blueprints for the simulacrum frame? Or better yet, should we freely award you IMC stock?"

"Mr. Marder, I don't see how that-"

" _General._ Marder. And I must insist that you do not proclaim to understand the intricacies of this novel technology within minutes of its revelation." He wasn't fooling around. While his face remained stony, his voice was conveying all the degradation and condescension needed to understand his ire.

Suddenly, another reporter stood, this one wearing seemingly identical garb to Kalia Jensen. He was further in the back (perhaps that's why no one had noticed his matching outfit and pointed it out yet), and was shouting out to the stage. "It's plain to see what this really is - it's another heinous technology founded on _lies_ and empty promises to-"

"Security!" Marder trailed off with his yell, turning away almost dismissively. "We will not allow you to spew your blatant propaganda here."

"They have the right to speak!" Another man, younger, in the same sort of outfit, stood up. This one was further up, but on the opposite side.

Yet another stood, on our side, even closer, wielding an angry expression and a violent, accusatory pointed finger. "How many dead memories are being usurped by these _abominations_?"

Kalia Jensen was already being apprehended by security, and she struggled to yell up toward the stage as a couple of burly men in black jackets apprehended her. "How many? How many had to die for you?"

Mom, who was already retreating, a look of distress on her face, had her arms raised at her sides like she was ready to run off from a predator. She didn't know how to answer. "This- this isn't-"

"Get them all out. Anyone in those blue jackets, please, officers." Marder didn't even turn around again to address the security. His back was to the crowd as he drew a deep breath, and an annoyed applause erupted from the crowd. "And I want the names of whoever let them in!" The applause lessened, as people shifted awkwardly.

It was only a few moments before everyone in blue jackets was being whisked away, Once all we could see were their backs, the crowd erupted into applause again. Marder, now with an aire of satisfaction, turned to Mom. Her face was bright red; I knew she wasn't used to all this excitement. Hopefully it wasn't _too_ much, otherwise she-

"I, uh," she began, trying to retake her presence on the stage. Her voice was beginning to falter, like she had something stuck in her throat but wasn't bothering to clear it. "Uh, we've been working diligently to bring this product to market. Our analysts' current projections are… are…" Dad was still mouthing along to the words, but slowed to a stop. His expression grew more concerned and attentive, just as Mom's grew more grave.

There was something about that expression. Something I wasn't supposed to like. Why couldn't I remember what was wrong?

The stage was all but gone now. _Am I focusing too hard on Mom? Where's Dad?_

 _Where's anybody?_

Mom looked back up, her face now more serious and direct. "This isn't _for_ me." She looked down, and shook her head. "It never was. There's…" She was hesitant. Something was really, really wrong, but I couldn't… I can't-

"It's for you."

She looked straight at me. But it's like, she wasn't looking at me. Like she was looking _through_ me; speaking to me, but only to something she _thought_ was me.

And somehow, in this void of only her and me… I felt...

"This is my last wish: that _your_ last wish, is to be _better_. Like I couldn't be."

...I felt like I still couldn't be that _something_.

As quickly as the whole ordeal started, it was over. Mom was back on stage, and staring out at the crowd expectantly. I just barely caught a glimpse of a holographic display disappearing. Marder was still sat at the back of the stage, still fiddling with his PDA. Where were we? _When_ were we? What's going on?

And there he was. Not Marder; now, on stage, in the shadows, was the man. The one I had bumped into earlier, the one that no one else could see. I knew him, though, didn't I? Didn't I have to? The only ones on-stage were-

"How many? How many had to die for you?!"

What?

I stood, and turned back. There they all were, but not as they once were.

All of them bore the visage of the strange out-of-place man, heads cocked awkwardly to the side like their necks were broken, staring me down with their eyes open just ever so slightly too much.

The whole crowd was looking at me, especially Dad, as I had burst out of my chair. I whipped around, and looked at Mom. I couldn't read her expression; some mix of surprise and tenderness.

The man on-stage just smiled, and he stepped up to the podium. Mom seemed to notice him now, as did everyone else.

He reached into his jacket, and produced a small pistol, extending his arm fully and pointing it straight at Mom's head. Her eyes crossed as he lined it up between them, and they widened as she realized what was happening before her. The man just smiled. His doppelgangers around did, too. Dad was one of them, now, staring at me with that odd smile on his face.

 _Bang._


End file.
